


Reactive Force

by Winterstar



Series: This is battle; this is war. [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Impact Play, Iron Man 3 Compliant, M/M, More avengers to come, Orgasm Denial, PTSD, Porn With Plot, Verbal Humiliation, breath play, safe word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A love story continued. It had only taken a blink of an eye and everything in his life changed.......</p><p>Please see cautionary note for Chapter 11.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It took me a long time to figure this story out. The original story that I was going to write for this part of the series I had to preempt. This story needed to be written so that I could weave in Iron Man 3, since I wanted to make sure this verse was completely compliant with the MCU. 
> 
> I am taking a risk here - so I hope you will stay with me and tell me whether or not it works for you. This is a long story and I will try to post one or two chapters a week as I work through it. Right now it is well over 20k and counting. I expect it will be at least 30k possibly more. And the angst tag is there for a reason, peeps!

**Present Day (AFTER MALIBU)**

All Tony has left is Steve's little notebook and it's his own damned fault. The leather binding cracks along the edges and it looks as if Steve played obsessively with the corner because it curls upward. Along the top of the notebook is a ridge where he tucked his pen. Tony lines his finger along the groove and he denies it feels cold and bereft as he stands in the house at Lake Chautauqua. He tears his gaze away from the book but Steve is everywhere here. The drawings on the walls echo who Steve is, who he promised to be. He bites back his discontentment, his anger, and when Pepper walks into the room, but pauses, he says in a low growl, "Sell it. Get rid of it. I never want to see this damned place again."

He pushes past Pepper and he knows he shouldn't be rude to her. It isn't her fault, none of it is. She only nods and follows him. He should toss the book, but he clutches it in his hand and holds it close. Steve is gone and its all his fault. He keeps the mantra going in his head, he can't get it to stop. He isn't sleeping anymore, again. He broke everything.

He broke Steve.

He broke Pepper.

Christ, he even broke Happy. 

For what? He doesn't say anything as Pepper talks on the phone to the realtor about the house. He goes to the window and stares out, to the grove of trees beyond the deck. He'd spent an afternoon in the winter there with Steve. He recalls how easy the motion of throwing the shield was for Steve. How he let it hang from his finger tips and fling it. He remembers how Steve taught him to throw it, a little less finesse and more control with an under arm swing instead of the full body toss that Steve performed. The wind had been touched with ice that day and feeling Steve up against him still lingers. He closes his eyes just as Pepper says, "Are you ready to go, Tony?"

Peering over his shoulder, he nods. She steps closer to him and says, "You don't have to do this, not for me."

"I have to do it for me." Tony leans in and kisses her softly on the lips. He closed the door on Steve, and now he has to fix what he shattered with Pepper. 

He walks out of the house and swears he doesn’t hear the ghost of a whisper, ignores the phantom images of Steve as he passes through the house into the attached garage. It is better this way, for him, for everyone. He closes his eyes and opens them as if it will clear up what has happened in the past year, as if everything from New York to Los Angeles to Malibu will just disappear. Christ, how much is one person supposed to deal with. 

As he settles into the limousine, he pays no heed to the memories floating back to him. The long trip here with Steve sitting next to him, eating Cheetos and drinking Yoo hoo chocolate milk for the first time. That isn’t part of his life anymore. He isn’t sure what is a part of his life. Reflectively, he touches the spot on his chest where the arc reactor sits, but it isn’t there. It is gone, along with the armor, his house, everything that was his old life. He shut the door once and for all. There’s only one constant in his life and, as she slides into the backseat with him, Tony wonders how very dishonest he has been to her. How can she still be with him?

She smiles at him and leans forward to ask the driver to leave the premises. He’d already ensured the renovators will be at the house tomorrow, to paint over the walls, so that every last trace of Steve will be gone before the house is put back on the market. Something about it scares him but he manages to smother the emotion. He’s the master at hiding the truth from himself. No one knows that better than he does.

The trip to New York is uneventful. He speaks only periodically, asking Pepper to look into selling the property in Pennsylvania as well. The idea of a Stark Arts and Technology Institute or whatever the hell he was selling himself curdles in his belly like cold, spoiled fish. The moments at that place come back to haunt him still. He sees his hands on pale hips; he sees his prick buried deep against strong firm muscles. He swallows back the horror of who he is and what has happened since those months so long ago. It had only taken a blink of an eye and everything in his life changed.

**Eight Months Before Malibu**  
Stuffed pork chops are monstrosities of food stuffs. Large, double chops with breaded crap stuffed between a pocketed slit in the middle of the meat. It is obscene how large they are. Tony cannot eat one. Steve can eat three, easily, almost frighteningly. Tony purses his mouth as he watches Steve fork down another mouthful before peering back up at Tony.

“What?”

“Superheroing got you hungry?” Tony points at the nearly empty dish. He’s never seen anything like it. He cannot even be sure Thor can woof down so much food in one sitting.

“We haven’t eaten in two days, Tony. I’m starved.”

Tony tilts his head with agreement. The latest and greatest on the nascent Hydra organization sent them on a wild goose chase which ended in more wild goose shit than anything else. They were still no closer to solving the riddle of who wanted to blow L.A. to smithereens or what vampires were stalking Steve for all of his blood. It irritates Tony to no end. 

“You want to, maybe, go back to the house at the Lake for a few days?” Tony says as he scratches at his two day old scruff. He needs to trim the beard. Doesn’t work if it isn’t properly taken care of. “Fury probably won’t call you in for a few days. I can make sure Pepper doesn’t need me. We can relax.”

Steve works on slicing the last of the pork off the bone, but he peers up at Tony will a smug look on his face. The expression sends shivers down Tony’s spine and, damn him, warms his face with a flush of desire. Steve grins at his reaction.

“You are such a tease.”

“Am I?” Steve raises an eyebrow and pops the last of the meat into his mouth, but slowly pulls out the fork letting it linger over his full lips.

“Oh lordy, who has been teaching you these things, Captain America,” Tony asks.

“Who says I needed to be taught, Iron Man,” Steve says but shuts up as the waitress steps up to their table. 

She’s older but pretty. Her eyes are a blue gray and she looks down at them as if they are both her sons. “Can I get you boys any dessert? We have crème brulee that’s to die for, as well as some deep dish apple pie.”

“I’ll take a cappuccino.”

“What’s the crème brulee stuff?” Steve asks and that earnest, innocent face is back. Tony would pay a million dollars to see it every fucking second of his life. It spreads heat like melted chocolate through him. 

“Bring two for him. And some of the pie,” Tony directs and then waitress leaves. 

Steve sits back and stretches out his long legs until they touch Tony’s under the table. “We should probably report back to SHIELD, see if there’s anything more of the clean-up work and debriefing to be done before we bug out of here.”

“We could,” Tony says. “But that might mean we’re stuck here for a few more days.” The thought of staying in New York sends a tightness to his chest he hadn’t experienced before when he thinks of it. The entire incident in L.A. just exacerbates the idea of risk, danger, and sacrifice. He’s not ready to sacrifice; he’s not ready to lose anyone. Not anymore, not Steve.

“Really don’t want to be stuck here,” Steve is saying and thanks the waitress when she returns with the desserts. The woman places the deep dish apple pie in front of Tony with the coffee. He smiles as she turns and shoves the pie over to Steve. 

Leaning over the table, Tony whispers, “I need to get out of New York. I don’t want to be here. I want to get out of here.” He doesn’t want to deal with New York. He feels itchy with the need to leave. Like his brain has cross wired the events every time he thinks about New York he sees Steve slam against a brick wall in L.A. He needs out. He’s spent as little time in this wretched place as possible. “Come back to the lake with me.”

Steve studies him for a moment, his eyes soften and he smiles. “Just let me check in with Fury and I’ll come.”

Tony wants to touch him, wants to reach across the expanse of the table and hold onto Steve. Ever since they returned to New York, he’s been off balance, skewed. He needs to get out of this place and forget about what happened here. So much has happened in the last year, he needs to be alone with Steve, and he needs to hold Steve. He needs Steve to fall apart so that he can put them both back together again. 

He sips the coffee and nods. He has to agree, he has to allow Steve to do his job even if all he ever wants is to escape the brittle hands of responsibility. It confines and restricts him. Steve pushes aside the dessert and raises his hand to get the waitress’ attention. She walks over to the table and Steve asks for the check. Even as Tony reaches for it, Steve frowns at him and offers the woman his card. Once he completes the transaction, he stands and waits on Tony.

“We’re leaving? What? Now?” Tony says and glances at the table. The desserts are only half eaten and considering soldier boy hasn’t eaten for 48 hours; Tony starts to make a remark. Steve only shakes his head and proceeds to weave his way through the tables to the exit. Tony’s brain stutters and tries to catch up with what’s going on, but he finally just jumps up and follows Steve.

When he closes the door to the restaurant, Tony finds Steve waiting for him. The weather is crisp, a near spring day. Steve has his hands buried deep in his pockets and his collar turned up. He looks like a soldier on leave from the war, from all of those old movies he used to watch with his mother on Saturday afternoons. Tension twists low in his belly and Steve starts the brisk walk.

“My apartment isn’t far,” Steve says as Tony drifts a step behind, looking over his shoulder to where the car is waiting for them.

“The car, my car,” Tony says with a skip in his step to keep up the pace with Steve.

“Don’t need it, come on,” Steve says and turns the corner. Before Tony knows or grasps exactly what is going on, they mount the steps of a brownstone and Steve digs out his keys. 

“Why? Why do you still have this place?” Tony says as the door swings open.

“It isn’t like we’ve actually moved in together, Tony,” Steve says. “Most of the time we’ve been on missions, at SHIELD, or at one of your places. This is my place. You know that. Come on.” He waves for him to follow and climbs the stairs.

“No, I mean I thought Hydra blew this place up,” Tony comments as he turns around in the small vestibule area. The last time he was here the group calling itself Hydra tried to kill Steve and there was a gaping hole in the front of the apartment building. 

“SHIELD put the renovation as priority. Good PR for the neighborhood, especially after all the damage from the Chitauri,” Steve says and calls, “Are you coming up?”

“Sure, I mean fine.” He scrambles up the stairs and gets to Steve’s floor just as he’s drawing out his key from the lock. 

“I have the whole floor,” Steve says and ushers Tony into the apartment. 

It is by no means extravagant but it is everything Tony would imagine Steve’s place to be. Neat and orderly, but at the same time with touches of Steve. There are books piled on the end tables, both fiction and non-fiction. On the walls, there are photographs of the Avengers, which surprises Tony. He figured that Steve would have decorated his place with photos of people from his past, if he could find them. It occurs to him then, that as long as they’ve been doing this he’s not seen Steve’s place. This is the first time.

He stands in the middle of the living room with its hardwood floors, its throw rugs, and brass lamps. He stands there and waits, for what he isn’t sure. An island separates the living room area from the kitchen. He glimpses black appliances instead of the more in vogue stainless steel ones. The counter tops aren’t granite but some laminate pretending to be granite. There’s a toaster tucked in the corner and a coffee maker. It all seems so normal, so regular, not the house where Captain America should live. 

“Are you coming?” Steve is in a room down the long narrow hallway. Tony cannot see him, but there’s a light shining into the hall.

“Yes, um, sure,” Tony says and takes off his coat to toss it on the couch. He toes off his shoes and goes to join Steve. When he enters the room, he stops dead in his tracks. 

Steve is naked with a tube of lubricant in his hand and a package of condoms. “You don’t have to prepare me, I don’t want you to. I’ll heal. Just do what you need to do.” He puts the items in Tony’s hands.

Tony looks down at the items, at the lube, at the condoms, and then back to Steve. Who is standing there, waiting to be used by Tony as a relief valve, as something to take the edge off. It hurts all the more and Tony throws the items aside, onto the floor and rushes Steve. He cups his hands on either side of his face, searching for something more, seeking the connection he so desperately needs. He loves Steve, he’s told him that. But does Steve realize, does he comprehend that it is something more than this physical thing between them, that Tony wants to take Steve apart only to put him together again if Tony is tangled within the weave of his fabric. 

“Don’t, don’t do this,” Tony says and punishes Steve with a kiss that’s neither gentle nor tender. It hurts as his teeth clash against Steve’s, as he gropes and demands against Steve’s mouth. He wants to crawl into this man, force him to understand that this physicality of their relationship means so much more, has to mean so much more because if it doesn’t Tony fails.

When he breaks away, Steve pants against him, curling his face into Tony’s neck. He shivers in that full body roll and Tony can feel the slight touch of wetness from Steve’s eyes. “I didn’t mean. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no, no,” Tony says and cups his hand to Steve’s face. “No, don’t, you just-.”

“I know this is hard for you Tony. I’ve seen how much you hate it here now; I just wanted to make it easier.”

He does, he hates fucking New York with all its memories and images, and monuments to what happened. He cannot get the stink of it out of his brain. He lets his head drop against Steve’s shoulder and his joints go lose and he cannot stand anymore. Steve catches him, smoothly slips his arm under his legs and brings him to the bed. He lays Tony down and curls up beside him.

“Tell me what to do, what do you need me to do, right now,” Steve says.

The knots of the day, the stress, and the memories fall away. Tony wants to feel Steve, touch him, and hold him. “Let me.” He pauses. He just told Steve not like this, that Steve is not his relief valve. But he needs to have that touch, that connection.

Without a word, Steve purposefully and methodologically undresses Tony. He unbuttons his maroon shirt to cast it aside. He unzips pants and shucks the boxers. He pulls off the t-shirt as well. He rims the arc reactor with his tongue and then kisses Tony lightly on the lips.

Nodding, Steve turns on his side away from Tony and waits. 

Tony gropes for the lube on the floor, stretching for it, and then drops some on his hand before Steve grabs his wrist and says, “No, just do it.”

“Babe,” Tony whispers and he’s not sure the sound actually touches the air.

“Just, do it.”

He doesn’t care what Steve says, he will at the very least lube up his dick. He squeezes some of the lube onto his hand and lathers it onto his prick. He’s not achingly hard yet, but he strokes himself until it’s painful to feel. He moans a little as he lines up against Steve’s ass. He swipes his lube coated hand against Steve’s ass. 

“You’re sure?”

“Please,” Steve says a little breathless.

When he pushes in Steve thrusts back as if to acknowledge that he has agreed to this. Tony curses under his breath but then Steve groans a ruined sound that is both horrible in its meaning and anguished in its beauty. It sets fire through Tony’s nerve endings and he heaves in a breath against the tightness, the heat surrounding him. It is both raw and enticing. Steve shudders and hits the bed with his fist. He’s pleading with Tony to move but the words take too long to get to him. Tony feels like he’s underwater, like he’s drowning on dry land. 

He shoves forward and Steve gulps in air. His body tenses against Tony and it shocks and mystifies him because Steve is asking for more, begging Tony to split him open, break him down. It hurts and Tony thinks every tiny piece of shrapnel in his chest has pierced through his heart. The arc reactor isn’t working anymore, and the world grays out around him. He only feels the strain, the build, the need.

Steve whimpers against him, it is the only way Tony can possibly describe the sounds escaping Steve’s throat. He isn’t asking to be released; he’s asking for more. Tony curves an arm around Steve and clutches him close as he pushes in. It feels brutal and primal and there are no other words for it. He grasps Steve’s flagging erection and jerks him until Steve’s head is thrown back against Tony’s shoulder and he’s arched like an impossibly taut bowstring.

He drives and forces and becomes greedy in the sensation. As he grinds against and into Steve, he feels the release building, breaking, coming. He cries out as Steve clenches down and comes all over Tony’s grip. Before he realizes it, he’s shivering against Steve’s back. He still holds him, but through aftershocks like a great mountain suffered a cataclysmic quake. 

Tony allows Steve to quiet and then carefully pulls out. He feels the warmth of fluids and knows without looking it will be tinged pink. He dips his head against Steve’s back and hates himself a little more. This is not what he intended. He wants to take care of Steve, he wants to protect Steve. But even as he thinks this, he recognizes the strength of the back he’s pressed up against, how very ludicrous it is for him to even think he needs to shelter Steve. 

Maybe it is New York, being back here has fucked with his brain. 

Steve shifts and has his hands on Tony’s face. For the first time, he notices the tears streaming down his own face. 

“Tony, Tony, God, what is it?” Steve says and huddles Tony close to him. “I’m okay. I’ll heal, I swear it.”

He should be taking care of Steve, cleaning him up. He’s been hurt because of Tony, but instead Steve hunches over him and braces him. The thoughts of New York compound when he thinks of what happened to Steve in L.A. How Steve very nearly died. 

“Jesus, this world is fucking screwed up,” Tony mutters.

“I think he already knows that,” Steve says and kisses Tony’s temple.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whisper.

“Nothing to be sorry about, I asked for it.” He strokes his hands up and down Tony’s back, brushing against his ribs, down his vertebrae. He should be doing this for Steve, not the other way around. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Tony says and goes to move, but Steve stops him.

“I’m not ready,” Steve says. “Want to stay a little while, hold you.”

His words sound a little slurred now that Tony listens closely. Tony focuses on Steve and sees he’s glossy eyed and fuzzy. 

“Feels good to be here for you,” Steve says and kisses Tony again, trailing up and down his shoulder and neck. 

Tony threads his fingers through Steve’s hair, massaging it until he’s lax under his ministrations, though Tony has the same spaced feeling as Steve continues to kiss and pet him up and down his shoulder and back. 

“The lake, we’ll go back to the lake.”

“Hmm,” Steve replies.

“If I never see New York again, it will be too soon.”

“The lake then,” Steve agrees.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony discovers his relationship with Pepper is fragmented and he's thinking of only one person. 
> 
> Steve.

**Present Day**  
He leans against the window of the SUV and closes his eyes. Pepper is close, he can feel her breathing, knows the structure of her bones, the touch of her knee against him. He wonders if she understands how very much she means to him. He refuses to let his mind drift to places that are prickled and spiked with memories. But they are there on the surface, just waiting to be let out like the hounds of hell. 

“Tony?” Pepper says and puts her phone down. She’s always busy, always fixing things for him. She saved him from the fucker Killian in the end. She tolerated everything that happened to her and to him with a firm stance he’s not even sure he would have been able to pull off. In many ways, she is his idol. 

“Nothing, tired, just want to close the chapters, Pepper.” It is true. He’s done with being a superhero, with putting people he loves on the line for the sake of some honorable duty. He won’t do it again. He already lost Steve, he won’t lose Pepper. 

She smiles and reaches over to him to line his jaw with her hand. “I have some realtors coming over tomorrow so we can decide where we would like to settle.”

“Far away,” Tony says and clamps his mouth shut. He shouldn’t say it out loud. Pepper needs to know he’s fine now; he’s free of the nightmares, of the fears. But can he ever truly be free when there are nuts in this world and in others and he knows, knows deep in his fucking heart that he has the technology and the know how to stop them. Can he turn his back completely on it? He has to, he has no other choice. He’s made a decision, and for once in his god damned life he’s going to stick to it. 

She rubs his knee and her smile is a soft kind of sympathy. They’ve been through so much together now. He’s been a stupid ass in so many ways. He’d assumed she was sleeping with Happy, when she hadn’t been. He still doesn’t get their relationship, it is something they need to discuss and sort out. They will eventually. He has a strange kind of respect for Happy now. Not only has Happy put himself on the line for Tony, but he’s done exactly what Pepper has asked and needed. He wonders at a man who can be so much and so perfect. When he thinks of Happy in the hospital he only finds a lump in his throat and it gets hard to breathe again.

“Tony?”

He waves her off and ignores her slight grimace. 

“So, we can go to D.C. if you’d rather stay there?” Pepper says as she flicks through screens on her phone. 

“Nope, New York is fine.”

“You’re sure?” Pepper studies him, her eyes harder than normal, but seeking something he doesn’t want to share. She moves in her seat as if it isn’t comfortable, as if the seat just doesn’t fit right.

He peeks at her with half closed eyes. She has been nothing but phenomenal, but then Pepper has always been perfect. There is one thing Tony can state, he knows brilliance. He can identify it from miles away. Pepper has always been perfect, has always been brilliant. He closes his eyes and tries to convince himself that things are good, things will not change. 

But they will.

He knows they will.

He hears her talking on the phone, and opens his eyes. She’s been quiet and slightly off herself lately. After the events in Malibu, after the Extremis and the Mandarian – after everything, things have changed. They will never _not_ be connected, now. Yet, he wonders if they are meant to be together. He should do the right thing, set her free. He didn’t set Steve free and look what happened to him.

He coughs and gags a little. Pepper jumps up from the phone and rubs his back. “Tony?”

“Okay, just okay.” He doesn’t want her to worry, he doesn’t need her concern. He needs to get his head out of his ass and back on track. Yet, his biggest issue now is centering himself. He’s blown all the suits; he’s thrust off the cocoon of Iron Man to protect him against the invading outside world. He has to find a way, find his way. 

“I’m making reservations for us,” Pepper says.

This snaps him back to attention and he furrows his brows and does a little shake of his head. “Reservations?” Are they going somewhere. “What?”

“No, Tony, for some place to stay tonight.” 

“We can stay at the Tower,” Tony says and sits up straighter. He needs to project to her that he’s self-sufficient, that everything about him isn’t broken, that his life is new and different and he can handle things without his shield, without the shelter of his suits.

“You’re sure?” She has the phone hanging in her hand, waiting for him to make a decision. 

He folds his hand over her smaller one; she has hands like an angel, she has hands like his mother. “Yes, I’m sure.” He can do this, New York is only a place after all and his demons will follow him any and everywhere.

By the evening they pull into the underground garage for the Tower and he finds he’s not hyperventilating. He considers this small fact a win. Maybe he has stretched out of his cocoon and found the safety of the wind under his wings. Happy is with them, though he’s no longer their driver. He’s actually Pepper’s security since he’s Head of Security at Stark Industries. He raises his eyebrow at the thought of Pepper needing a guard. Though he fixed what was wrong with Extremis, they haven’t tested out if Pepper has any new and different characteristics or talents. He hasn’t broached the subject with her. He thinks it is probably safer to test it out on himself first.

That thought just makes him go, hmm, and he realizes his brain settles back into the thought of tinkering and enhancing like kissing a long established lover. He’s made to tinker, to play, to expand. As he considers these thoughts, the driver piles up their luggage, and totes it over to the elevators. 

When he enters the building, a long lost voice says, “Welcome home, sir.”

He startles for a moment, and then something he didn’t even realize that was tight and strained loosens around his chest. “JARVIS.”

“It is always good to hear from you, now, sir.”

Pepper smiles a bit and tilts her head as he allows himself a moment to reminisce. She touches his arm lightly and he nods. He refuses to accept certain things in his life, and one of them happens to be her continued guilt that he blew up his arsenal to protect her. Yes, he did it. Yes, he’s reinventing himself. He’s done it before to great consequences. He’ll do it again this time and this time the results will be phenomenal and he promises no one will get hurt.

“Bring us up, JARVIS,” Pepper says as they board the lift.

“It is with great pleasure, Miss Potts,” JARVIS says and the elevator car begins its ascent.

“So, I was thinking,” Pepper says. Both Happy and the driver – whom Tony cannot remember his name – have stayed behind to catch the next lift. “We might take it slowly, now.”

“Slowly?” Tony says because he has no idea what she’s getting at and the fact that this seems to be coming out of left field and that he’s using baseball metaphors in his head really sends him reeling.

“Before, before Malibu, I think we took it a little fast,” Pepper says. She has her hands folded in front of her. 

“A little fast?” Why does he feel like he’s racing to catch up with her? 

“I think before, we jumped back into too fast,” Pepper says, her voice is whispered and sweet. Her eyes tell a different story. Her eyes look sad as if she has to break bad news to him and doesn’t want to. He wonders if she is actually doing just that. “After what happened with Steve, after all of that, you came to me and I – I should have known better.” She looks up and he can see the wet in her eyes. “I should have taken a step back because Tony you’re all energy and need, and kinetics.”

“Kinetics?” He still isn’t exactly tracking but he thinks she might be breaking up with him. “Are we breaking up again? Are we?” The elevator dings and he steps out. Silently he thanks JARVIS because, damn it, he needs a god damned drink. He walks across the expanse of the penthouse and lights click on automatically. 

“No, Tony, just listen.”

“Listening, I’m listening. What I know is that we’ve been through hell and back again,” he says and grips the decanter of bourbon. He pours himself two fingers, reconsiders and adds another two for good luck. “I think we should enjoy the down time, because, really, we never know when shit is going to hit us. We don’t know, Pepper.”

“And I get that I do, Tony, but-.”

“There isn’t a but here, Pepper. We’re here now, we’re together. I think we should just enjoy the moment.” 

She stops him cold. “If Steve were here would you be with me?”

“That’s not a fair question,” Tony says and downs some of the bourbon. It burns a little but he likes it. He craves it.

“Yes it is, Tony, and I was stupid and not thinking when we started this up again.” She looks like he broke her all over again and he can’t take it. “I don’t, I don’t want to hurt you but we have to be sane about this. We have to look at who we are, what we’ve done to one another.”

“No,” he yells out. “No, what I’ve done to you. I’ve always done it to you, I know that Pepper. I use people up, that’s why it didn’t work the first time, that’s why Steve is gone, and that’s why you don’t want to chance it again. It’s me.”

“No,” she says and walks over to join him, to grab the hand that’s shaking around the glass with his drink. “No, I’m not- I’m not innocent.” She blinks far too many times and looks up at him. “Remember, remember when you called your armor to you when you were sleeping, when you were having the nightmare?”

He feels like a sniveling fool, like there’s too much snot in his nose. He only nods.

“I left you alone, I woke up scared and you were terrified, scared. I left you alone. Tony, I’m not perfect. You think I’m perfect and I’m not. I should have been there for you, but I couldn’t be, I was too scared,” Pepper says and wipes away a tear he hadn’t known he’d shed. “I don’t know if this can be fixed, but right now, I want to take it slowly. I want to see _what_ we should be. We deserve that chance, don’t we?”

He nods again. He realizes she’s not ending, but she’s not exactly beginning it again either. Maybe this is better. After the whole of the Malibu and Extremis, both of them need to recalibrate and re-center themselves. If they do it measured and slowly, then they will find a way back to themselves, back to each other. Or they may not, maybe they shouldn’t be together. That hits him like a rock to the chest.

“I’m not leaving you, Tony. I will never leave you. You know that,” Pepper says and cradles his cheek with her hand. “I just don’t know who or what we’re going to be together, now. Can we have the time to figure it out?"

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he agrees because he remembers a call from a rural phone booth he made what feels like ages ago. He called her and told her he had to make a mends, he’d done a lot of stupid things. She’s giving him a chance, she’s giving them both room to breathe and to see if this is what they need and want. To exactly define what they should be together. She was always the smart one. He smiles. “Yes, Pepper, always.”

She kisses him lightly and leaves, clicking down the hallway and disappearing to the guest wing. He stands like stone for what may be hours but is only minutes until JARVIS calls him.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Whatever you need-?”

Tony smiles but it is mirthless as his mind drifts to a memory, a day, a moment. “Thanks, JARVIS.” He cannot have what is no longer his and he longs for more but he knows he’s already lost. When he thinks this, when he rolls it over in his mind and thinks about loss – there’s only one person who comes to mind. There’s only one person for whom his heart aches. He looks over his shoulder where Pepper disappeared to and he feels like a sinner because it isn’t her.

He murmurs without voice, “Steve.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's fears of loss come to light and he needs to deal with them before he loses Steve

**Eight Months Before Malibu**  
In the end, they decide not to go to the Lakehouse, instead they settle at the campus and the condo. It isn’t as roomy or as nice, but it is secluded and Tony wants to jumpstart his plans for the Institute. He pops with excitement and energy when they get back to the campus. No one from SHIELD followed them, but Tony is fairly sure they are under surveillance. He has JARVIS do a clean sweep and starts to wire the condo almost immediately for installation of his A.I. 

Steve wanders around with his hands in his pockets or jogging the perimeter of the campus. He reports back to Tony that there are eyes in the sky and in the woods surrounding the campus. Tony grumbles but knows he has to accept some of it. They still don’t have any good leads on who the nascent Hydra belongs to, and the World Security Council is rumbling about the wasted effort. Tony cannot justify their stance since Steve nearly died at the hands of the Hydra organization. The World Security Council decides that Hydra is just a bunch of neo-Nazis playing games and they have to attack them not with any type of frontal assault but something much more subtle. Both Clint and Natasha disappeared from SHIELD HQ after that explanation. 

Steve is antsy over it, and Tony tries not to rise to the bait of stupidity. Fury keeps hammering away about how they have to stay close and at hand. But Tony can’t, he just can’t do it. After Steve was nearly killed in L.A. everything changes. Memories of New York bubbled to the surface, images and fears he’d thought he’d put away and controlled. Now, he realizes he doesn’t have the control he needs. He has to hone it, he has to learn not to let fear overcome him. In order to do that, though, he runs away.

He leaves New York with Steve in tow so that he can ensure Steve’s safety and remove himself from the object of his nightmares – New York and her scars. When he gets to the campus, or soon to be campus, he’s like a shark in a feeding frenzy. He tears into the work he has set up and sinks into it like the deep waters of the sea. Wiring the condo and setting up the servers to accommodate JARVIS takes little time. He builds the satellite dishes on the roof and ignores Steve’s calls to be careful. 

Delivery trucks with supplies and probably SHIELD agents hidden in the under carriage roll up to the condo and Steve takes to helping them unload all of the supplies. He doesn’t quiz Tony about what the hell is going on, and for that Tony is eternally grateful. There’s much to be done and he feels like that shark surrounded by unsuspecting prey. All of the projects, the ideas are circling around him and he needs to attack, he needs to free himself of some of the ideas so that he can drown in them and forget the horribleness of what happened to Steve as well as the haunting memories of an abyss of space. 

As he lies on his back threading the wires to finish up the networking needed in the condo, Steve steps up behind him and waits. They’ve been at the condo for three days and Tony has done nothing but work. 

“Can we talk about it?” Steve says.

“About?” Tony tugs on the next wire, twists in and applies it to the outlet box. 

“The insanity of what is going on here, Tony,” Steve says. “Because I don’t understand it. I thought we were coming here for some time together, that you wanted to start building your dream here.”

Tony drops the wires and sits up. “What?”

“You know, what you said when you took me on the tour of this place. How you wanted to renovate this whole place into an art and technology campus,” Steve says. He’s wearing a hoodie and jeans. He couldn’t look more modern than he does now. He recently had his hair cut shorter and with a quite modern cut to it. Yet his carriage and the way he moves still has an attitude of stiffness and ill-defined awkwardness reflecting the foreign world around him.

“Just what do you think I’m doing?” Tony says and tosses the pliers. 

“Putting together a state of the art entertainment center?” Steve shrugs. “I don’t know, since we got here you’ve kind of went into your own little Tony world.” 

Sitting up, Tony assesses Steve and there’s a definite tension to his shoulders, stress etched in his features. The recognition of these factors spurs Tony, he wants to help Steve. He wants to bring him around, tug at him a little, challenge him. If he does this, the furrow between his brows will relax, he’ll ease into their moments together and become like a string on a violin made to be played by Tony’s bow. But something stops him. What happened to Steve in California compounded with the fact they have no idea what happened to the Hydra threat and added to that the residual gunpowder-like stains Tony from the Chitauri attack have added up to feeling suffocated and in need of space.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m doing. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist is putting together his Gameboy,” Tony snaps. “While my wife keeps the place nice and clean. Am I making a mess, dear?”

The words slap Steve in the face and he visibly flinches. He opens his mouth as if to retort but nothing comes out. Instead, he looks at Tony and the perplexed look has vanished to be replaced by the color of rage. “Whatever, Tony. I’ll be out.”

Steve stalks out of the room as Tony yells after him. “Whatever? Whatever? Sounds like you are from this century, buddy boy.” 

When he hears the door slam, he sinks to his knees and glares at his hands, his hands that are shaking. Damn it, what the fuck is wrong with him? He recalls the moments together with Steve, hidden away in the side wing of the mansion, loving Steve for days until they were both securely ensconced in a kind of subspace for both of them. It was beautiful and lovely and all a god damned fairy tale, because as soon as they left that room it all came crashing in on him again. 

There are nutcases out there trying to kill them, trying to hurt the people he loves. He cannot even control the people on Earth, how the hell is he expected to control anything at all when aliens can come calling and a nuke is the only fucking answer? Before he realizes what he is doing he has his phone in hand and the number is connecting.

“Tony?”

“Pepper?” It is automatic like breathing and his heart beating that he would reach out to her. “Pepper, I think I -.”

“Tony, what’s wrong? What is going on?” Pepper asks. He hears her take in a breath, startled and worried. 

“No, I- don’t do that, don’t be worried.”

“I can be worried, what is going on with you? Are you hurt?” She lets out a little breath she must have been holding.

“No, I’m not – it isn’t about me. Can you just -.”

“I’m here, what is it?”

“Steve,” Tony says and then hangs his head. He doesn’t want to tell her, he wants to let her believe he’s a better person now, but the hole in his chest has eaten away at everything in his life, the hole that represents everything and nothing at all. It is his rock, the rock that Sisyphus pushed up the mountain side again and again. Being this thing, linked to this need to be this thing has drained his reserved, but he still has to do it. He’s Iron Man, forever.

Pepper’s talking as he’s thinking. “Steve, what happened? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. We decided to get out of New York, I can’t be-.” His throat closes up. He doesn’t want to voice it because then it all becomes too real, too much for even him to articulate. 

“So, are you coming back to California, because I wanted to clear the air on something,” Pepper says and starts down a path he’s really not at all interested in. “It’s about Happy, and I just wanted to tell you-.”

“Pepper, this isn’t about Happy. I called about Steve, I don’t want to hear about you and my driver doing the nasty,” Tony barks. 

“I – Tony, that’s uncalled for. I think I’m hanging up now,” Pepper says and he can tell she’s half way through the motion when he stops her.

“Please, don’t. I’m sorry. I really am sorry.” He squeezes his eyes shut and presses the heel of one hand into his eye until he sees stars, until his eye starts to tear. “I’m just-I’m just fucking this up, too. Pepper, stop me, tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re being you?” 

“That’s cruel,” Tony says and drops his hand. He looks up to the ceiling where he’s torn away the tiles to get at the wiring. “But true. I’m being too Tony Stark.”

“And not Tony the boyfriend,” Pepper says and her voice is soft, soothing, even tender. “You can do this, Tony. You love him. He loves you. I’ve seen it in the way he looks at you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony agrees and remembers the blissful contented expression on Steve’s face as they lie together in one another’s arms. “He’s so adorable.” He doesn’t even realize he’s said it out loud until she giggles. “Sorry, sorry, god, now I’m embarrassing a national icon.”

“Don’t worry; everyone thinks Steve is adorable.”

“God, I thought it was just me, like he had some weird ass fondue voodoo shit going on,” Tony chuckles and the smile feels genuine for the first time in days. It fades as quickly as it came to him. “I fucked up, Pep. I was more than cruel, I was nasty to him.”

“Then make it up to him.”

“How?”

“You know how,” Pepper replies. “Talk to you later, Tony.”

“Bye.” He adds before she can disconnect. “I love you.”

“Always.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony discovers something and sets on a path that could bring happiness or destroy him completely.

**Present Day**  
His marching orders today were direct and simple. Go to the New York office and get some work completed. There are virtual piles of agreements, MTAs, NDAs, and other miscellaneous documents to be reviewed, revised, and signed on his desk. Tony doesn’t take care of this shit, not normally. He removed himself as CEO for a reason, to distance himself from the every day mundane, so he could work on inventions, tinker, be Iron Man. He’s no longer Iron Man, he doesn’t even know who he is anymore.

Tony mildly considers whether or not he should move his entire life to a tropical island somewhere. He's tired of the seasons; they keep mocking him, counting down the days until he's dead and ash in the ground. Everyone romanticizes the four seasons, but what he sees is the years of his life wasted and lost to the long drawn out play of nature's vulgarities. He crosses his arms and stares out to the cityscape. He's not sure where Pepper is, he's not sure where he stands with Pepper. He'd thought everything had been worked out, was brand new and clean. The Mandarin and Extremis. Jesus Fucking Christ, how can anyone forget about that damned nightmare?

Luckily, he'd been able to save Pepper and, along the way, he'd hired some pretty nifty people with degrees in all kinds of biomedical sciences from genetics to pharmacology to mathematical biogenetics. What he learned from his new laboratory of scientists is that Extremis - even with its fix - is not for everyone. It ends up being a complete and utter waste. There's a horrible reason why it only works for some people and not others - genetics. If you don't have the specific gene sequences then Extremis goes fatal on you and you become a god damned human time bomb- no amount of stabilizers will stop that in the end. She'd been one of the lucky ones, Pepper. 

In order to protect the corrected form of Extremis, Tony hasn't shared it with anyone and he won't. -The potential harm that could come to society, the hierarchy of having the right genetics - the haves and have nots.- No, he won’t be party to that. He won't do it, unless everyone can have the potential to have it. The only reason it would be worth it now is for the limb regrowth. The stabilized form of Extremis does not explode or cause people to breathe fire even if they have the specialized multiple gene expression profile. 

Trying to manipulate the genome of anyone is difficult, attempting to express the multi-gene array for Extremis to be available to everyone is impossible. It isn't something you can throw an adenoviral package at with your gene laced into the viral DNA to be incorporated in the human genome. Too many complications, too many horrors to consider. While the military knocks on his door about his secret key to the Extremis problem, he remains firmly unmoved. 

What he has his new bioengineering department looking into centers on the possibility of extracting the correct methodology to use an adenovirus to dump a temporary viral DNA load into cells and do that limb regeneration. He doesn’t want exploding people and he wants it to be a temporary expression of genes that eventually gets eaten away by the cell machinery. Once the person has the limb regrowth, the sequences degrade.

Yet, here he is weeks later without the arc reactor, in some kind of fugue state with Pepper, and feeling as if he lost parts of himself, as if he's lost a limb or worse his heart. He touches the indentation where the arc reactor used to be, and closes his eyes. Everything's changed and he should be happy about it. He's a better man for it. He can't be dissuaded that he didn't make the right decisions. But why does he need to fight the urge to call Steve, to find Steve, to know if he's all right? 

Before he knows it his hand is on his phone desperately pressing buttons and lifting it to his ear. 

"Romanov?"

"Natasha," he says and realizes his voice sounds strangulated.

"Stark?" It sounds like more than surprise, it sounds like she's startled, stunned and worried at once. 

"Tell me, he's okay?"

"I thought we were over this, I can't because I don't know."

"Somebody must god damned know something. He's fucking Captain America. I know he didn't just drop off your radar." Tony feels like he's betraying everything and everyone with this call. He places a hand over his face and sinks down into the chair near the window of his office. 

She sighs into the phone and says, "I haven't seen him."

"Is he okay?" He hates to think of the last moments when he saw Steve, when everything came crashing down on them and they realized they weren't in some romantic fairy tale but in some half assed relationship. 

"I can't say," Natasha replies and then adds, "Look, Tony, I thought you were out of the superhero business."

"This isn't about superheroing, and everything about friendship. Christ, I just wanted to know if he's okay." 

"I don't. I don't know; no one does. He managed it, Tony; he finally managed to completely disappear."

"He can't disappear," Tony says and finds his heart's rapidity chokes him and tightens his already damaged chest wall. "I need to talk to you, really talk to you."

She pauses and he knows she's judging what she might be able to say and what isn't prudent to share. He wants to beg, and he thinks this is wrong. He's with Pepper now, or he isn't - he just isn't sure. He wants to be, he needs to throw away the relationship he had with Steve. He's sure of that, it was wrong and crooked. 

Finally, Natasha says, "Okay, but not now."

"I'm in New York, where are you?"

"I can't say, but can get there in a few hours."

He finishes off the phone call with quick words on where they will meet. She seems resigned to his neediness and he feels better once he hangs up. He tries to convince himself, he's looking for closure with the entire Steve phase of his life. He ignores the fact that his palms are sweating and itchy. He refuses to acknowledge the idea of Steve causes his breath to catch in his throat and a warmth to spread across his chest. The warmth fills up the spaces left behind, the empty hole in his chest near his heart.

Just as he's bathing in his betrayal, Pepper walks in and stops as she sees him. He looks down at himself, shit he's not even hard how the hell does she do that? How can she tell he’s an ass and is thinking of what he did with Steve, wanting what he did with Steve?

"What's going on?"

He decides the truth is the best way to go. "I have to go meet Natasha."

"SHIELD," she says resigned.

"No, yes," Tony fumbles for words. "Yes, it is SHIELD." He switches gears and jumps to the lie. "Just some loose ends. They want to discuss some consultant work or some shit. I told Fury, I'd only talk to Natasha. She'll set them straight. I'm out of the superhero business." 

Pepper tilts her head and studies him. She places the Starkpad she has clutched in her arms on his desk and walks over to the couch. This is a rarely used office in the New York headquarters of the Stark Industries. He doesn't like it, it is too confining even with its long stretch of windows to the city below, even with its vaulted ceilings, even with it open plan. It feels like the walls are closing in. 

"Come, I want to talk to you," Pepper says and pats the seat beside her.

He wants to bolt immediately, anytime she gets the expression on her face where it is a mixture of sympathy, fear, and love alarm bells go off in his head. It hurts and pings little places in his heart like a thousand tiny pins. Dragging himself to her side, Tony sits and waits. He doesn't feel any of the suave, self-assured asshole he usually presents to the world, instead he feels small and harmed - small and apprehensive - small and vulnerable.

She reaches over to him and clasps his jittery hands in hers. "There are some things you need to know."

"Like that you're supergirl, because I knew that before the whole Extremis thing. Now it just means that you're sizzling," Tony says and moves in for a kiss.

His attempt at humor falls flat when she presses her hand against his chest and she says, "No, listen, Tony, we never cleared the air about this. And we have a lot of air to clear, so please, let me start."

Settling back, he huffs. He doesn't like serious discussion about feelings, what guy does? But he expects that he owes her and tries not to fidget.

"When you called, you know when you were with Steve at Chauquatua."

"I called a few times."

"The time you heard Happy in the room," Pepper says and her freckles flare as her cheeks redden.

"Oh yeah, that was a bit uncomfortable."

"He wasn't in bed with me," Pepper continues ignoring his comment.

"Shit, really, was he. Oh god, don't tell me you like, do puppy play or something, and he was sleeping on the floor. There are things I just shouldn't know. And craps, I do not want to be your puppy-."

"Oh god, Tony, I don't even kn-."

"I think I would get a kink in my neck. And talk about kinky, I think I've ridden that horse before, well, not horse really but he was bit big. Well endowed don't you-."

"What are you? I have no idea," Pepper says and squishes up her little peg nose.

"Can we not do that, I don't think I'm into that? Is it really you're kin-."

Pepper growls at him and yells, "Stop, Tony, just stop. Happy was not pretending to be my puppy."

"Oh, then what?" He hopes she doesn't want a threesome. He doesn't want to see Happy, in that way. Now, he will never get that image out of his head. He grimaces at it.

"Happy was in the room, sleeping on the couch because I was afraid."

He freezes, actually runs cold. His blood feels like ice. "Wh-what?"

"Afraid, you're not the only one with nightmares. I have them, too. I-." She looks down and finds a string on her impeccably tailored suit. Where it came from, why she's tearing at it, he doesn't want know, but he stills her hands and holds her. "After New York, you weren't the only one affected. I - I just-. I needed someone to stay with me, and we weren't together. Happy fell into the role when he found me one evening having a nightmare on the couch in my office. He stayed with me, talked to me all night long. He just started to stay with me so I could sleep."

"Damn it," he murmurs. He stares at her hands, her small, delicate fingers tangled with his scarred hands. He cannot look up to meet her gaze.

"We never, I mean, we didn't really have a relationship like that," Pepper says. 

"Never?"

"No, not because he didn't want one, but I wasn't ready," Pepper says. She isn’t looking up at him, there’s something hidden that she doesn’t want him to see, that she doesn’t want to reveal to him. This is the moment he realizes it. He’s broken everyone. Steve, Pepper, Happy, and even himself.

"So, you didn't break up with him to go back with me?" 

"No," Pepper says. 

"He thinks the world of you, he would do anything for you," he says. He thinks he wants to drop into a pit. He's taken so much away from his friends, the only people who have loved him all these years. Now, he knows he also really did take Pepper away from Happy. Even though he'd had the inkling before, this is so much worse - to have dashed hopes and dreams before they even were fully planted. 

"I just- I wanted you to know that," Pepper says. "I wanted you to know that I understand a little about giving up something to be with someone." Her hands, so light and slender, are cold in his. Why can’t he ever warm her?

"Oh," Tony says and his mouth feels dry and his skin too hot. He thinks she means the suits, how he blew them all up. But he can only think of Steve.

She cups his jaw in her hand, that gentle long fingered hand and leans forward. Her kiss is chaste and soft and scrapes at his heart. "We'll get through this."

"Okay," he manages, because he knows they won't. He knows something else is happening and that he'll betray everyone in his life again, because there's no stopping Tony Stark when he’s set on self-destruction.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is eight months before Malibu and Tony and Steve connect again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note this chapter contacts impact play to the groin and orgasm denial. Heed the warnings.

**Eight Months Before Malibu**  
Tony decides that he has to go with his tried and true method of dealing with a problem – have a plan of attack. His usual plan of attack is to attack, but he thinks a subtler approach might work with Steve this time. He’d like to show Steve a little bit of how important he is. He’s been jittery since L.A. added onto his buried stress about New York. With all of this coming to a head, he really needs to redefine what he wants in life.

He wants Steve.

It is clear and bright and so very heated inside his flesh when he thinks of Steve, he knows he could never go wrong with this, but he has to make sure that Steve understands where his head is – and lately, he hasn’t even touched Steve. Pushing him away has been Tony’s one action. Defensive or not, Tony has to do something, and do it quickly before his house of cards falls down on his head.

He misses JARVIS. But soon, the whole place will be wired for him. At least he can access JARVIS through his phone and he does. He calls up all of the information on local restaurants, goes back and forth over where to actually go. There aren’t a lot of options since they are out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere Pennsylvania. Finally, he finds something an hour away, but it sounds romantic and is set to serve the community during the height of ski season. It’s still open even though it is now closing in on late April. They have a limited menu, but with Tony’s money and pull, he’s able to get the chef to agree to certain foods and to close the whole second floor of the restaurant for his use.

He spends some time on creation and invention. It wouldn’t be a Tony Stark plan of attack if he didn’t exploit a little bit of his ingenuity. He breaks from wiring the condo and fixing his workshop in the condo to fashioning a device for Steve which he thinks might be something both devious and beautiful in design.

Now, he just has to wait for Spangles to get home. 

It seems like days but it is hours later and he’s sitting in a huff because how many Doctor Who episodes does he really need to watch anyway? Steve opens the door, nods to Tony who is sitting on the couch, and then walks through the living room toward his bedroom and bath.

“Excuse me?” Tony knows he should be sweet and nice, but, shit, he wanted him back hours ago.

Steve turns around, eyebrows raised. “Hmm?”

“No, honey, I’m home?”

“Well, you can see I’m here, I didn’t think that was necessary,” Steve says and jangles something in his hands.

“Whatcha got?” Tony stands up and peeks at Steve’s closed fist.

“Just the keys to my bike,” Steve replies and stuffs them in his pocket.

“Your bike, how’d you get your bike here?” 

“Called a moving company, the garage in town was happy to help me out,” Steve says with a tone laced with exasperation. “I can operate in the modern age, you know. I may not understand the internet but I do know how to use it.”

Tony raises his hands. This is not going as he planned, and it is not going well – at all. “Good, well, what’s up with the bike? You could have used one of the vehicles here. The gator-.”

“Not if I want to take a few days for a trip, Tony,” Steve says and looks to the sliding glass doors which lead to the small balcony for the condo. 

“A trip?”

“I thought I might go away for a few days. You’re busy here; you obviously don’t need me here in your hair right now, so I thought I’d tool around. You know, get to know the different places. Thought I might drive down to Philly and catch a game.” 

“Oh, I didn’t-.” Tony hadn’t realized he’d driven Steve to search out other things to do. At least, Steve isn’t _leaving_ leaving; he thinks this is a plus. “But, when are you leaving?”

Steve looks out the window, and since it is late afternoon, Tony waits for the obvious answer and he gets it. “Morning, probably.”

“Okay, then, how about you go out with me tonight?” Tony asks. Steve looks down at himself. He’s been working out. Tony can smell him from across the room. He stinks. Tony needs to get ready himself so he says, “We can leave in about a half hour. I have reservations for a little place about an hour south of here. Dress in something nice, formal.” 

Tony races out of the room to the master suite to ensure that Steve doesn’t have enough time to reject him. Closing the door, he considers whether or not he should lock it but that just seems juvenile. He leaves it, but still keeps looking at the knob expecting it to twist any moment. It doesn’t, so he pops into the shower, cleans up nice – as he always does – throws on a dark pair of slacks, burgundy silk shirt with a black tie, and a dark jacket. He stuffs some supplies he acquired in his jacket pocket along with his newest invention, you never know when the mood is going to strike. He smiles, hopefully.

When he opens the door, he’s half expecting Steve to be standing there still in his workout clothes and stinking up the room. Instead, what he finds stops him in other ways. Steve is wearing one of the suits they had tailor made in Vegas. He doesn’t even know why Steve brought it along, but the guy knows him better than anyone – well, probably not Pepper. 

He wears a dark silk suit with a powder blue shirt and a tie that’s silver with gray satin stripes. He looks good enough to eat. For the first time, Tony is painfully aware how long it’s been since he’s orgasmed and it hurts. For a half second, Tony thinks he should cancel dinner and ravage Steve right now, but he thinks twice and decides Steve needs time out. And Tony needs time to dine Steve, flirt with Steve, and treat Steve right.

“Coming?” He walks to the door.

“You said it would take an hour, right?” Steve asks and moves to the kitchen.

“About.”

Steve opens a cupboard, pulls out the bag of Cheetos and then from the refrigerator retrieves a Yoo-hoo chocolate milk. “You know a lot of things this century taste like cardboard, and other things.” Steve makes a point of looking directly at Tony’s crotch. “Not so much.” 

Steve passes Tony and walks out the door. It takes Tony another half minute to get his legs to work again, and to tell his dick to stand down. They take the SUV, and end up in a companionable silence as they drive. Tony puts on some mellow jazz because he doesn’t want to upset Steve and he’s in the mood for something smooth. Steve munches on his Cheetos and manages not to get the neon orange powder on his suit. 

At one point Tony warns him. “I hope you’re going to have room for dinner.”

“Yes, mom.” Steve laughs.

Tony reaches out and grabs Steve’s hand. He squeezes it, and then rakes a fingernail toward the inner tender part of the wrist. In low tones, Tony says, “Babe.”

“Yes, Tony.” Steve places the bag at his feet and sits there with his hand captured by Tony, his nail at the pressure point. He can feel Steve’s pulse and the rapidity nearly makes Tony veer off the road and take Steve right here, right now. What the hell has he been thinking these last few days? He hasn’t touched or even kissed Steve, he’s been too wrapped up in fear and horror to think about what he has in front of him.

By the time they get to the restaurant, Tony thinks he might be walking funky, but he ends up escorting Steve into the open part of the restaurant where patrons are lingering and quietly whispering. The ambience evokes a quiet Swiss chalet, but also harkens to ski lodges. The hodge podge isn’t great but this is rural Pennsylvania, he’s lucky to have found this place. Once Tony gives his name, they are immediately ushered upstairs which is closed off from the lower floor. No one else is on the second floor and it has windows along the perimeter, giving a 360 view of the mountains and small dots of lights depicting the villages below. 

“Wow,” Steve says and walks to the window. “This is fantastic.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Tony appreciates it because he can see it through Steve’s eyes. Tony has seen the best places in the world, dined in the most expensive restaurants, but with Steve even a pizzeria is like a new experience. 

“Gentlemen, your table.” One of the tables near the windows is the chosen one to be theirs tonight. 

Tony nods and places a hand on the small of Steve’s back to guide him to the table. Once Steve sits, Tony leans down and places a kiss at his temple. The waiter remains impassive to the side – that was all the test Tony needs. Now, he knows he’ll be able to get what he wants tonight. 

The meal is a quiet, subtle thing. They have shrimp cocktail to start with martinis. Though Steve cannot get drunk, just the atmosphere lulls him into a kind of relaxation which Tony rarely sees in him. 

“Shaken, not stirred,” Tony laughs. “Seriously, you have to watch the Bond movies. My favorite Bond is Connery, of course.”

“Favorite?” Steve asks.

“A series of different actors played him. Just like a series of different actors play Doctor Who but that is a little different. Just the actors for Bond change it up when they get too old, or aren’t raking in the dough, or just don’t hit it off with the audience.” 

Tony doesn’t touch his shrimp cocktail and moves it over to Steve to eat. When Steve goes to pick up the shrimp, Tony bats his hand gently away and picks up the tailfins, dips it in the sauce, and lifts it to Steve’s lips. Steve opens his mouth, but Tony lets the shrimp linger on his lips, smearing the sauce along his lower lip until the tip of Steve’s tongue flicks out and laps at the drips of cocktail sauce. 

“Eat, babe,” Tony whispers and Steve bits into the shrimp. He chews it slowly, while Tony dabs the clothe napkin along his chin to sop up the stains of sauce. He feeds each and every shrimp to Steve, places them on his lips, then into his mouth, and finally the last one he asks Steve for his tongue and places it directly on his tongue leaving the tailfins hanging. “Close your mouth, babe.”

Steve does as told and Tony leans in to bite off the fins, his lips grazing Steve’s mouth. He takes out the tail and tosses it aside. He kisses Steve, then, thoroughly until his mouth looks bruised and swollen from it.

“Tony,” Steve murmurs and looks down at the table. For a second, Tony thinks he might bolt. 

“What?” He’s insanely frightened of what Steve might do, what he’s thinking but then Steve looks up and even in this lighting, this low light of the room, Tony sees his pupils are unnaturally wide, blown, with the slightest sliver a blue to highlight his shirt. 

Swallowing, Steve tries to clear his throat. “What’s for dinner?”

Tony smiles because he can see how very nervous with excitement Steve is. They haven’t had a long intimate session since California. It’s been weeks. In between the time, Steve’s been out on missions chasing down phantom clues and Tony’s been stuck in his lab in New York fighting to find any scrap of evidence regarding the neo-Hydra organization. Yes, they’ve fucked, and yes they’ve made love but nothing like a long drawn out session. It is something he thinks they both need. He wants to possess Steve, know he owns a piece of him, know that there is somewhere safe and secure from the hell of the world that he can always go to and find this solace, this acceptance of his broken shell.

Dinner comes and, of course, for Steve the order is filet mignon. Tony asked for it cooked just this side of rare and when Steve cuts into it, the pink is a definite red. Steve pauses and looks up at Tony. Tony only smiles and nods to him. The blood on his lips brightens them and causes a hitch like a stab right to Tony’s groin. He turns to the waiter who is standing to the side and makes a short wave of his hand. The waiter, a man in his fifties, bows and leaves while closing and locking the doors behind him. 

He launches across the table and devours Steve’s mouth as he grabs hold of his shoulders. Steve fumbles, trying to keep his balance on the chair as Tony consumes his mouth, plunges in with his tongue.

“God, I’m sorry, Steve, I didn’t-. I didn’t mean to leave you, I was just-.” He cannot express anything; the words are mixed up and fried. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says and tears a bit at Tony’s clothes.

Tony’s hands are at Steve’s fly, undoing the belt, the button, the zipper, to push his pants down and aside. “Shoes off, pants off.”

“Tony-I-.” Steve stammers, but he looks at Tony and there must be something written on his face, the need there, that Steve doesn’t just listen, he pulls off his pants and shoes, rips off his jacket and tie, and then sweeps the meal aside and lays back on the table. 

“Shit, Christ,” Tony says and tries to right his brain so it tells him what to do. It isn’t doing anything; it feels like its swelling in his skull. He unbuttons Steve’s shirt, and pulls up his under shirt to twist at his nipples. Tugging off his own pants, Tony’s dick is insanely hard. He’s planned for this, and pulls out the lube. He figured they’d do it in the car, but hell, this is as good a place as any. He lubes up his dick, and then his fingers. 

The table, thank God, is right at the perfect height. Tony slips the first finger in and Steve groans around him, he can feel the vibration of it when he places his hand on his belly. Steve’s cock is pretty, jetting up to his navel and leaking all over his bare chest. For a moment, Tony wonders what the wait staff thinks, how very risqué this is, considering he’s debauching a nearly naked Captain America on the table. But he’s paid a small fortune to the restaurant owner and the wait staff – enough to pay their salaries for nearly three years he estimates – so he knows he’s good. 

Steve stares up at the chandelier, his chest bright and pale against the lighting. Tony wants to take it apart, bruise it, and mark it. He bends over Steve and bites at his nipples, rolling one on his tongue as he pulls at the other, just shy of too painful. 

Steve’s whisper something, begging him, “More, Tony, more.”

“More? You like this, you like the thrill of getting discovered,” Tony says as he nips at his chest, then suckles near his ear, all the time working his two fingers into Steve’s ass. “It’s too much, being the stand up, good guy all the time; you need someone to break you apart. Let you be. Let you feel.”

“Yes, yes,” Steve murmurs and his body rebels against him into a full body shudder, and he moans into Tony’s hair. “In me, please, in me.”

Tony lines up, adjusts, and strokes in with one powerful thrust. Steve makes a little noise between a hiccup and a gulp. Tony reaches between them and holds onto Steve’s cock. “Hold it, babe, hold it.” 

With his other hand, he digs in his jacket pocket and pulls out his special invention, a cockring with a ball harness, he brought for the occasion. He slides it on and tightens it as Steve looks down.

“Wh-what?” Steve pleads, the helpless look on his face is almost too much for Tony and he forces himself not to blow his load immediately. 

“You’re not coming until I say so,” Tony says and slams into Steve again. Steve quakes under him, and turns his face away. “Tell me, you’re okay with this, Steve?”

He doesn’t reply, just nods and fists his hands onto the table cloth. He plays with Steve’s nipples, tormenting him until he’s arching off the table. He pushes him gently back and gathers up his legs and perches them on his shoulders. Half way through he decides it’s too uncomfortable and shoves both of Steve’s legs toward his own shoulders. He’s curled against the table with Tony’s dick in him and his own cock and balls captured between their bodies. 

Steve grasps onto his own legs, opening them for Tony, offering himself to Tony. “You like it, don’t you. You want me to tear everything apart for you, break you, shatter it all.”

“Remake me, so I can live here, so I can feel here,” Steve says as his voice sounds slightly strangulated. 

The idea, the knowledge that Steve relies on him as an anchor or better yet, his portal – his link to the 21st century spurs him on, drives him forward until he’s lashing into Steve like he’s a storm, battering without mercy. Steve grunts and heaves at Tony focuses down, as he thrusts and pushes, and pumps until the sweat is pouring off of him, dripping into his eyes, ruining his silk shirt, and he’s coming in Steve in a great wave of pleasure that feels more like pain than anything else. He blanks out, weak and spent, as he lies on top of Steve. 

Only Steve slight cry stops him and he pushes up on one arm to watch as Steve ruts a bit against Tony’s abdomen. He reaches down, takes Steve in hand, and squeezes firmly at the base near the ring. 

Steve hisses and nearly snarls at Tony. His eyes flare in challenge.

Tony pulls out of Steve, and says, “Not yet, not until I say.”

Steve clenches his teeth and shifts under Tony as if he doesn’t want Tony’s weight against his swollen cock. Tony perches over him, lifting some of the pressure but then takes his erection in hand and strokes him a few lazy times.

“Tony,” Steve says and it sounds pathetic and Steve colors red at the sound of his own voice.

“Get up, babe, we’ll get dressed and go home.”

“H-home?” Steve says as Tony stands up and yanks up his pants. He puts himself together fairly quickly as Steve stumbles about trying to get his pants, his boxers, his shoes. He’s a disarrayed mess and Tony leans over to help him. When he does he settles Steve in his chair, his pants on but not zipped up. He takes Steve’s cock in his mouth and sucks until Steve’s panting.

“Not yet,” Tony says and smiles. 

“Son of a-.”

Tony holds up a finger, pressing it to Steve’s lips. “No.” He slips his hand into Steve’s hair and yanks it. It’s hard enough to bring tears to the captain’s eyes. “No.”

Tony notices his erection is purpled and straining in the ring. The harness keeps his balls from contracting, pulling them from his body. He kisses Steve to make up for the pain, to make up for the waiting. He whispers close to his ear. “When we get home, I’m going to take you apart again. I’m going to slap your cock and make you scream. Do you want that, babe?”

Steve leans forward, nearly dropping out of the chair as he shivers and his body roils at Tony’s words. He hushes Steve and tells him, “Let’s get you together and get out of here.”

Steve nods into his shoulder but keeps his head nuzzled against Tony. They stay like that for a while but then Tony nudges him to move and, with some help, has Steve back to rights. He looks at the mess of the table, throws a few more hundreds on the table, and snaps his fingers twice in the air.

The waiter appears almost immediately. This fact causes a brilliant blush on Steve.

“Tell the previous owner I’ll expect the paperwork at my New York offices in the morning. Also, you can expect a raise, a substantial one.” Tony smiles and twines his fingers into Steve’s. 

“What just happened?”

Tony waves at him and sees how very uncomfortable Steve is with his pants tented in front. “Come on now, no need for business.”

“Business? Tony, did you just buy that place?”

“Just? No, don’t be ridiculous, I bought it this afternoon,” Tony says and drags Steve along. The waiter offers them a sly smile to the side as they descend the stairs. Steve glances behind them and cannot find his words. “A little subspacey, babe?”

“Hmm?” 

Tony stops on the landing and cups Steve’s erection. “We should do something about this.” Steve leans into him, his weight nearly throwing Tony ass backwards down the stairs. “Not here, later.”

With Steve’s attention drawn back to Tony, he hustles them out of the restaurant and back into the SUV. It’s dark and a chill is in the air, but he can hear some of the peeping frog song. Once he has Steve firmly placed in his seat, he jumps into the driver’s seat and shifts the vehicle into gear.

“Ready for home?” 

Steve closes his eyes and nods.

“Babe?”

He turns to glance at Tony.

“Take out your cock and play with it on the drive home.”

“Wh-what?” Steve shakes his head. “No, it hurts enough.”

“Do it,” Tony says in a slurred whisper. “Do it for me, baby.”

He hears Steve use an expletive but doesn’t force him to repeat it. Instead, he navigates the vehicles to the main highway and starts their trip back. He puts on some low music, just some quiet stuff nothing too hard or too painful for the good captain to listen to while he’s partially jerking off in the seat. 

As Tony drives the long way home, he occasionally looks over at Steve. His erection held in his hand and he languidly stroking it, his head back against the headrest, his eyes half closed. He pants and shivers through his breathing as he caresses himself. 

Turning back to the road, Tony watches as the headlights of the SUV catch the road reflectors and glint in the night. He opens his window a crack since the steam from the good captain is getting to be a problem. He takes a quick peek and Steve flexes his hand and fists it off his cock as if trying to stop himself from continuing. 

“Oh shit,” Tony says. “The cops.”

“What?” Steve jerks up and looks out the window. All there is in front of them is dark open road, he sweeps a glance behind them. “Tony, damn it. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Tony snickers. “You should have seen your face. Classic.”

Steve shoves his cock which is a nice shade of red-purple back into his pants and turns to stare out his window. 

“Now, don’t be like that,” Tony says and pats his thigh. Steve pushes it away. “I only wanted to relieve some of the tension without actually relieving the tension. If you get what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean, Tony. I’m not naïve, you know.” Steve shifts in his seat and it is obvious he is still uncomfortable, so he must still be turned on. All that stimulation and a state of the art designed and manufactured by one Tony Stark cockring will do that to even Captain America.

Tony reaches across the seat and brushes his hand up and down Steve’s tense pants. “Gonna take care of you, babe, when we get home.”

Steve moans low in his throat but doesn’t throw Tony’s hand off of him, in fact he moves into it. 

He pats Steve’s inner thigh and says, “Just a little while now.”

“Can you,” Steve hesitates and then says, “Can you hold me, hold me all the way home.”

“Hold you?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods and opens up his pants again to release his erection. 

Tony licks his lips a little and tries not to hyperventilate while he’s driving. How the hell is he going to deal with this and get them home safely? “Recline the seat and turn toward me.”

Steve lies back and shifts on his left side. The seatbelt is cumbersome but it isn’t exactly in the way. Tony’s able to lift up the arm rest and stroke his hand up and down on Steve’s erection as they drive. This is the fucking reason he has a god damned driver, so he can fuck in a car when he wants to. Steve’s leaking pre-come and hissing through his teeth as Tony touches the velvet length of him. Following the directions on the GPS screen in the dash, Tony tries to keep his mind on the road, not the hard pulsing flesh in his right hand. By the time he finally gets through the gates at the old ski resort he’s converting into an academic institute, he’s stiff in his pants and Steve has an indolent expression glazed over his face. 

He parks the SUV and shuts it off. Steve doesn’t really move, just fusses and settles as Tony continues to fondle him. “Come on, babe, let’s get you up.”

Steve opens his eyes and Tony can see he’s barely focusing at all; his eyes are glossy, bleary with the feeling. He cradles Steve’s erection in one hand and lines a hand against his face. “Tell me, Steve.”

“Can’t, can’t talk. Just tell- what to do.”

Tony nods and says, “Stay here. I’ll be right around.”

He exits the SUV, and goes over to the passenger’s side door, opens it, and reaches over to unlock the seatbelt. “Come on, Steve, I need you to turn over.”

Steve does, but his movements remind Tony of someone underwater, or a movie in slow motion. He blinks a few times and Tony pushes Steve’s cock back into his pants which elicit a high pitched hiss. 

“Sorry, sorry, come on now, let’s go upstairs.” Tony manages to steer Steve out of the vehicle and up the stairs without issue, although Steve seems blissed out or high or something. He ushers him past the living room and into the bedroom without so much as a single protest. 

“Sit,” he says and touches his shoulder to get him to fall back on the bed. He does but winces as he sits. “I’m going to take off all your clothes and then I’m going to take mine off as well. Okay?”

Steve nods and starts helping Tony by shrugging off his jacket, and loosening his tie. By the time they are both naked, Steve is lying supine on the bed. His penis is hard and the flesh heated, dripping and painful to the touch. 

“Do you want me to just fuck you and take it off?” Tony says. He’s not sure if he should go through with his plans tonight. He wants to; he’s desperate to see how far he can push the captain before he utterly shatters. He won’t unless Steve asks him to, unless given permission. It is part of their agreement. Tony remains as dominant, but Steve calls the shots. 

“No, don’t take it off, not yet,” Steve mutters as he squeezes his eyes closed. “Hit me, hit it. H-hard.”

“Are you sure?”

Steve nods.

“Safeword?”

“Parlor, just do it,” Steve says and it comes out as more of a whimper.

“My hand or the strap?”

Steve only groans in response and curls up on himself. Tony decides to use the strap which is a long soft leather whip that isn’t sharp in its touch and feel. It is a gentler type of whip because they knew they would be using it for impact play on Steve’s cock and balls. 

Before Tony strikes Steve, he realizes that he might need to restrain him. So he pulls out the cuffs and adjusts Steve on the bed with a little maneuvering and a lot of tender words. He gets the chain through the slates of the headboard, and then clamps each of Steve’s wrists above his head. He has leverage and room since the chain is long, but it should keep him controlled enough so that Tony can do this without worry that Steve might unintentionally strike out.

Pressing Steve’s legs back and into a relaxed spread position, Tony says, “Ready.”

Steve inhales and exhales and then nods. He’s staring blankly at the ceiling. His hands are in tight fists. 

“Okay then, get ready,” Tony says and without further preamble swings his arm and strikes Steve’s cock. He sobs out a cry and jolts. Before he can recover, Tony hits again. Steve gulps for breath and his cock fights against the ring to shoot a smidgen of pre-come on his belly. Involuntarily, Steve closes his legs and Tony has to stop and push them apart, spread them wide so he has access.

He aims for and hits the balls and cock with one fierce swing. Steve flinches and cries out in response. His fists are white knuckled and he trembles under Tony’s touch as he softly pets his inner thigh in between the impacts. Tears are leaking out of his eyes.

“Babe, tell me you’re okay.”

“Want to come.”

“Now?”

He shakes his head. “When you say.”

“Soon, babe, soon,” Tony says and leans forward. He takes Steve in hand and pulls a bit. Steve whines in response. Retrieving the lube, Tony slips it on his fingers and slides two inside of Steve easily. He’s still loose from earlier. 

“On your knees, please.”

“Tony,” Steve says and barely fumbles to his side.

Tony arcs a swing and hits the inner part of Steve’s thigh. For anyone else it would leave a mark. Steve does a half growl half hiss but listens to the order and gets on his hands and knees. The chain from the cuffs is long enough to allow him to turn over with ease. His arms are trembling under the strain of holding up his weight and his cock is leaking all over the bed. It is hanging heavy and hot under him. 

Once Steve is in position, Tony takes the leather and hits him several times on the ass. He hunches into the swings, rocking as he does. With a final hand slap to Steve’s balls, Tony tosses the whip aside, lubes up his dick and plunges into Steve’s redden ass. He screams out in response. 

“Tony, please, please.”

“Please, what?” Tony slams into him.

“Please let me, please let me come.” He pulls on his restrains, as the chains tangle and creak against the bed frame. 

“Not yet,” Tony says and works at him, teasing him with his dick. Running his hands up and down the beautiful back, knowing he’s over sensitized and half crazed from the orgasm denial coupled with the impact play. “Head down.” He pushes Steve’s shoulders downward and now, Steve has his head cradles in the fold of his arms, his wrists still chained together. 

Encircling him, Tony finds his nipples and pinches as Steve cries out and begs.

“Please, please, damn it.”

“Please, what?”

“Please let me come.”

“That’s not it,” Tony says and thrusts harder. Shit, he’s so damned close, he’s about to come. The coiled knot of desire twists and tightens in the pit of his groin. His balls are tense, hot up against his body. “Tell me, Steve, tell me.”

“Apart, you take me apart.”

“And do what?”

“Remake me, fix me, control me,” Steve says.

The last two words throw Tony over the edge and he thrust in an explosion of white and light and he cannot see anything. The world flashes out and pulsates, and then he hears on the periphery Steve begging him, pleading with him. 

“Let me, god, please,” Steve is crying, grasping at his bonds.

As Tony comes back to himself, as his brain settles back in his cranium, he wraps his hand around Steve’s waist and undoes the ring with the harness on Steve’s cock and balls as he shoves one last time into Steve’s ass to hit his prostate. Steve’s entire body pitches into a full shudder of climax as he sobs out his release. The sound cannot be described as a cry or whimper, but something primal and harsh mixed with the lack of air. He keeps coming then, in wave after wave of need and lust and want. His body, Steve’s body under him, collapses but doesn’t stop seizing through his orgasm. It shudders and quakes as his come splatters across the bed, hits his chest and neck. Tony manages to get them onto their sides on the bed, waiting it out as Steve weeps through the seizures gripping his body. As it goes on, Tony starts to panic when Steve doesn’t find relief but his body rolls into a full body shiver then orgasms again as Tony caresses a hand down Steve’s flank. 

He makes little grunting noises near the end of the ordeal as if his skin is on fire, and anywhere Tony touches him hurts, so Tony stops touching him. Once he calms down, Tony reaches over and carefully unlocks the cuffs and throws them to the side of the bed.

Tentatively, he places a hand on Steve’s shoulder and he settles a degree without the pained noises from before. “Are you, are you okay?”

Steve doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are far off, and his body still twitches. 

“Steve, you have to tell me if you’re okay.”

“’m okay, good, I’m good.”

Tony brushes his hair back, paying attention to being light and tender with his caress. “Tell me you’re not hurt. That it was good.”

Steve smiles, but it is that adorable one, that harkens to a sweet innocence that Tony knows is no longer there but Steve can still somehow pull off even after world wars, aliens, and a BDSM lifestyle. “Hurt,” he says in a lazy sing song way. “Hurt, yes, very much.”

Tony drops his hand and studies him. “It hurt? It hurt too much?”

“Hurt, very badly. Very painful, so painful.” Steve curves his knees to his chest as if he’s trying to protect his groin and rolls over to stare at Tony. “So painful.” Tears wet his eyes, and Tony gulps back the horror, the fear of what he’s done.

“Christ, Steve, why didn’t you use the safeword? Why didn’t you say something?” Tony’s chest tightens, and he swears he feels every stab of, every piece of shrapnel in his chest dig into him like tiny drills. 

“Um?” Steve shakes his head, trying to clear it, trying to get back to some semblance of order. “No, good hurt, delicious hurt. So much pain.” With those words, the flood gates open and he grabs at Tony to hold him, to break his fall. Tony has him in his arms, the tears don’t come but a kind of panic overtakes him. 

“You’re here, you’re with me,” Tony says. He anchors Steve, keeps him firmly at this place and time. “Stay, stay.”

Steve buries his face in the crook of Tony’s neck as the tremors overcome him. He settles a degree and says to Tony, “Why did you say, why did you apologize for leaving me? You never left?”

Tony moves away just enough to see into those deep blue eyes, to connect and contact this man in his arms. “L.A., when you were abducted was hard, brought on a lot of fears for me. I couldn’t – I didn’t want to – god I am screwing this all up. Ever since New York, everything’s been different. I’ve been running away from it. When you were taken in California and hurt, you almost died. Some of it, well, part of it came to a head.”

“You didn’t want to connect because-.”

“Because if I get close to a person, I might lose them, and I’m just not strong enough to do that,” Tony says and watches as ghosts flit across Steve’s features. This is bad form to talk about this while Steve is so deeply enmeshed in sub-space. “Hey, not now. Let’s just enjoy.”

“Enjoy,” Steve says and pulls Tony on top of him. He often likes for Tony to cover him like some human blanket. Sometimes, Tony feels like Steve might be using him as a teddy bear and he really doesn’t appreciate it. Right now, though he’ll allow it. Steve needs this comfort after the impact play and orgasm denial.

“You liked it?” Tony ventures.

“Very much,” Steve murmurs into his ear with a soft kiss. “It was hard, though.”

“Too hard?”

Steve just negates that with a little no. 

“You were so good, so outstanding,” Tony says petting his shoulder, down the length of his arm. He studies the little freckles on his neck, at the jut of his shoulder, along the muscles of his arm. “You were perfection personified. I don’t think anyone else could have done what you did, tonight, babe.”

Steve kisses Tony’s temple.

“I love you,” Tony whispers.

“Love you, too,” Steve says and blinks his eyes. “Very tired.”

“You need to get cleaned up.” Tony shifts and sits up. Steve pouts a little but doesn’t disagree; they are still in their closed world of dominant and submissive. “I’ll run the bath, you rest. I’ll come wake you in fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Sure,” he mumbles and is asleep before Tony even leaves the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a necessarily short chapter. Things will start to fall into place very soon.

CHAPTER 6  
**Present Day**   
At the designated time, Tony sits at the table in the corner of the small bistro. He arrived early which is completely uncharacteristic of him – well, probably of the old him. Now, he has become more responsible and dependable. Now, his skin doesn’t fit and he feels constrained. He can’t break out and just free himself. That’s not who he is anymore, he doesn’t fly, he doesn’t beat back aliens and carry a nuke into a portal, and he sure the hell doesn’t have a boyfriend that he dominates in some sadomasochistic relationship. No, he’s Tony Stark now, and he’s ready to have the picket fence and the two children with a little white dog in the backyard that won’t fucking shut the hell up.

His hands shake as he grips the coffee he purchased as he entered the establishment. Looking at his watch, he curses and wonders where the hell Romanov is. She should be here by now, isn’t she the best of the best? Isn’t she some great assassin with blood red nails and not because of polish?

“You’re a wreck.”

He glances up and her hair shines in the light of the bistro like flames. “Nice to see you, too.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, tilts her head in consideration, but then slides into the chair. “What are you doing, Stark?”

“What do you think I’m doing, I’m having a latte.”

“Looks like you’re having a breakdown to me, I thought you were over all that?” She could always read him, it’s in her nature. It’s why she’s the best at what she does, bar none. 

“I am just having different personal crises. It wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have a crisis, right?” He shrugs, trying to laugh it off doesn’t ever work with her, but he damn well will give it a try.

“Maybe, now tell me why you’re not playing Mister Domestic,” she says and leans forward, her elbows on the table, her long arms laid out, her hands clasped together and those red nails gleaming. 

“I thought you were Pepper’s friend.”

She glares at him, but doesn’t stand down. “I am, and I thought you were her significant other.”

He settles back in the chair and casts an arm over the back. “Apparently, not so much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “It means what it means. Listen, Widow, I’m not here to get psycho-analyzed, I’m here to find out if Steve’s okay.”

She bows her head but looks up at him, with a glare that takes no prisoners. “And I’m only going to tell you anything if I can assess what your intentions are.”

He leans back onto the table, their faces are nearly touching. “My intentions are my own business. I want to know if Steve is okay.”

“He’s fine.” She moves to leave. He catches her wrist and she opens her mouth slightly as if she might snarl at him. 

“Natasha, please.”

She waits, and he can see she’s mentally weighing her options, thinking about pitching him across the small bistro and slamming him into the shelves of glasses and specialty pastries, but then she turns back to him. “Tell me what is going on, and I’ll consider it.”

Relenting, he releases his hold on her and says, “Pepper and I are re-evaluating our relationship.”

Natasha relaxes in the chair and gives him the floor. 

“We were on tenuous ground before the whole Mandarin, Extremis thing, anyhow.” He hates opening up raw wounds. He’s not sure this one will ever heal. “We never really meshed together after New York. We broke up then.”

“I remember, and then you were a thing with Steve. I know that,” Natasha says. She narrows her eyes and he knows she’s studying each and every micro expression of his face. She’s allowing him to see that she’s doing it as well.

“Well, after California, I freaked out. I thought I had it all handled.”

“After the Mandarin? After Malibu?”

“No, no before that. After Steve nearly died in California. When that happened everything that had been going on in my head after New York kind of crashed landed. Unfortunately, Steve and I – we were a casualty of that crash landing.” He doesn’t look at her; this is hard enough to admit to anyone. He doesn’t want her asking the more intimate questions, no one needs to know what exactly took place.

“So after L.A., you were okay for a while with Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah, I thought I could handle it,” Tony says. He sips his coffee. It seems too bitter, too cold. “I couldn’t. We crashed. Badly, so very badly.” He squeezes his eyes closed, trying not to remember the words, the pain, the feel of it. “He left. I went back to the Tower, he went back to his apartment.”

“Then you went back with Pepper,” Natasha says.

“Yeah, we kind of fell into it and ended up back in Malibu. It wasn’t working, shit, I bought her a giant rabbit for Christmas.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I heard about that one.”

Tony stops himself from cracking a wise one at her. “Extremis happened and I blew all the suits. I was desperate not to lose another person I cared for, so I did what she wanted.”

“But not what you wanted, because you are Iron Man.”

“I knew you were SHIELD’s best profiler for a reason,” Tony says, and smiles his first real smile in days. “Yes, and now.”

“Now, you’re lost and don’t know what to do,” she finishes for him. “What makes you think finding Steve will help you?”

“Nothing, everything, I don’t know. I just want to know he’s safe, that I didn’t fuck him up too.” Because he knows he fucked up Pepper, she’s had to deal with so much and with such little support from him. The thought that she went to Happy for support, for someone to feel secure with pierces him through harder and more thoroughly than he ever thought possible. There is a part of him that knows he’s done wrong, that she should leave him, that she could be so much happier with Hogan.

“He’s not on SHIELD’s radar. They’ve looked for him but they can’t find him,” she says, she keeps her eyes down as she’s speaks.

“But you know where he is?”

Looking up, her eyes are like stone crystals, faceted and stunning, but can cut right through him. “I might.”

“Will you tell me?”

“Only when you know what you’re planning on doing, Stark. He’s had a hard time of it.”

“He’s hurt? Tell me he’s not hurt,” Tony answers, and his head pounds to a distant pulse, a far away want. 

“He’s not hurt, but he’s been single minded on this crazy ass mission to hunt down all the nascent cells of this neo-Hydra unit himself,” Natasha says. “Even after SHIELD gave up on it, said it wasn’t a world player.” 

“And SHIELD can’t find him?” He feels the acid chill of how very cold the World Security Council can be.

“Every time it appears like one of these cells has been identified, Steve’s already struck. He’s already there and gone.”

“But how?” Tony says. Something doesn’t add up. Steve doesn’t have that kind of access to secret information, not on his own, not without resources. Someone must be feeding him –something. “Who’s helping him?”

“I was hoping that with meeting you, you might be able to tell me. He’s going to get himself killed, or worse. There are a lot of people at SHIELD who are taking the heat for his actions.” Natasha’s pale skin looks whiter, drained of color as she talks. “There’s a rumor.”

“A rumor?”

“There’s a rumor that this neo-Hydra movement isn’t neo at all. That it is, in fact, still the Hydra from the 40s but linked to someone powerful and very much not from Nazi Germany. There’s a rumor that whoever they are, they have someone very dangerous on their side.”

“Dangerous? Is this someone after Steve? Do you know who?” Tony whispers.

She shakes her head. “I can’t be sure. He’s only ever been around infrequently. He used to be attached to the Soviet Union but he isn’t anymore.”

“So, what? Some weird ass spy is after Steve?”

“An assassin might be targeting Steve because he’s getting too close to the source of this Hydra organization, yes.” She sits back and sighs. “I can’t say anymore. I don’t have half of what I know confirmed. But what I really would like to know – if you’re not helping Steve find the Hydra cells, who is?”

“Find that person,” Tony says.

She lifts a brow again and finishes for him, “And you’ll find Steve.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Tony and Steve share lunch, talk about bisons with wings, and share each other.

**Eight Months Before Malibu**  
The wiring is nearly completed. Tony has the entire ground floor of the condominium ripped apart. The walls are non-existent, wires are laced throughout the jousts. The network he hooked up is a thing of beauty. In no time at all, he’ll be able to access JARVIS without using his phone. The delivery truck arrived today and sheets of plasterboard have been placed in the garage. He’ll have walls in no time and then he’ll start constructing his laboratory. If he’s going to spend any time at his institute, he plans on making it well worth it. He wants to deliver as well as receive.

As he finishes up the last of his circuits, really just checking them out, a clatter draws his attention to the stairway. He sees Steve’s shadow as he descends. He’s carrying something and Tony climbs to his feet to go and meet him. 

“Lunch time,” Steve announces as he shows off the three boxes of pizza and a bucket of wings. 

“That’s a little more than lunch,” Tony says as he places the amp meter on the floor. 

“Maybe for you,” Steve replies and puts the whole bundle of food on the single table in the wide open space of the ground floor. He slides a backpack off his shoulder and produces a liter of soda and a bottle of wine with some plastic cups. “Sorry, I didn’t want to bring glass.”

“What kind of wine goes with pizza?” Tony smiles and rubs his hands together. He’s surprised at how hungry he is. “What the hell time is it?”

“Nearly three, Tony.” Steve’s expression is a little disgruntled. “You really need to get a window or something down here. It’s like a morgue.” 

Turning on his heel, Tony scans the open space and frowns. “I never thought of a window. I like my privacy when working on the suits.”

“You could have one of those tinted windows, or windows no one can see into. At least, you’d get some natural light down here.” He opens up a box with what Tony can only figure must be a meatlover’s pizza. “I have paper plates somewhere.” He digs through the backpack again and pulls out a stack.

Tony takes the one offered to him and tries not to wince when Steve flops a large slice with lots of gooey cheese and meat rolling around on it onto his plate. 

“Sit, eat,” Steve says and fixes his own plate with three slices and a number of wings. He settles cross legged on the floor and looks up at Tony. It is really quite surprising that such a muscle bound guy is so flexible. Tony’s going to have to test that out at some point.

He grins at Steve and gets the flash of a blush he was looking for and then sits down next to him. He reaches up for the bottle, snags it off the table, and quirks a smile. “Screw top, now that’s classy.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Steve says around a mouthful of pizza. 

“You know, I might be gluten intolerant,” Tony says and unscrews the wine bottle. He drinks right from the bottle itself even through Steve disgusted sigh. 

“I don’t know what that is. And why are you doing that, I have cups here.” He pulls down the sleeve of plastic cups. 

“I’ve no idea either, Pepper told me to try it out once when I was having digestive issues.”

“Now, that is not a topic I’d call fit for dinner time.”

“So, we shouldn’t talk about your cock either then?” Tony snickers.

Steve shakes his head and finishes off the first slice and starts on the second. He ignores Tony’s jest and continues, “I fielded some calls from SHIELD today. Fury isn’t happy about how they’re investigating the whole Hydra thing.”

“He should join the club,” Tony says. “We haven’t had a decent lead in weeks.”

“The one cell out in L.A. might have been it,” Steve suggests as he chews on the chicken wing. He looks down at it. “I love these things. Seriously, why do they call them Buffalo wings? Is that some reference to some genetic experiments I don’t want to know about?”

Tony spews the wine all over the floor and half onto Steve’s chest. “Sorry, sorry. Shit, you didn’t bring any napkins.” He wipes futilely at the splotch on Steve’s shirt. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He tugs off the shirt and throws it to the side.

“But the thought of bison walking around with little wings, kind of funny.”

“Yes, let’s make fun of the man out of time,” Steve mocks.

Tony leans over and kisses Steve’s cheek. “Don’t be like that. It was funny, and you know it.”

Steve pauses and nods with a smile inching onto his face. “Yeah, yeah it was. But you are going to tell me why?”

Tony shrugs. He drags his phone over from the corner of room and calls up JARVIS. God, this will be easier once the place is finished. “JARVIS, my good A.I., do tell how Buffalo wings acquired their name.”

“Buffalo wings were first cooked in Buffalo, New York. The origin myth is that at the Anchor Bar in downtown Buffalo, the owners Teresa and Frank received an order of chicken wings in 1964 and normally would use them as stock for chicken broth, their son and friends came in one night hungry for something to eat and Teresa fried them up added tabasco sauce and some butter and served them at the Anchor Bar. They were a hit, sir.”

“There you go, it was all serendipity.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thanks JARVIS, should only be a day or so until you’re fully functional here,” Tony adds.

“I await it with bated breath, sir, if I had breath to bate.”

Tony rolls his eyes and disconnects. “Sassy bastard.”

“You made him that way,” Steve says and picks up the wine bottle to wash down the three slices of pizza and wings he’s consumed. 

“Fuck, you are like a wrecking crew when it comes to eating,” Tony says and looks at his single slice of pizza. 

“And you are like someone on a diet, eat more.” He nudges the plate toward Tony and pulls down another box of the pizza. “I ran into town this morning and checked on your orders.”

“It’s cute that you like to order from the locals, but I really can get a better deal with my whole sale suppliers,” Tony notes and dutifully eats the pizza. Sometimes, he has to wonder who is really dominant in this relationship. That thought just causes all kinds of warm and wonderfully twisted things to happen to his insides. 

“Well, you should really keep the locals happy, Tony. You need them on your side when you get the zoning permits and all that other legal stuff,” Steve says and chows down.

“Pepper takes care of that stuff.”

Steve negates his reply. “No, she doesn’t. She’s the CEO of your company; you don’t have anyone to take care of this stuff anymore.”

“Shit, I need a personal assistant. Natasha was kick ass personal assistant, in more ways than one. Hey, you want to do it?”

“Absolutely not,” Steve laughs. “That would be terrible. I can’t work with you.”

“What? We’re on a superhero team together, remember McFly?”

“Who the hell is McFly, and why is it every time I don’t get something you call me that?”

“See, this is why I need JARVIS,” Tony laments and leans into Steve. “Soon I will introduce you to the wonders of Marty McFly.”

Steve considers him and says, “You can’t be drunk, you only had a few sips of the wine.”

“Cheap crap always makes me sentimental,” Tony says. “Hey, you still writing in your little book?”

Steve fishes it out of his backpack and says, “Yep, every day I jot something down. Helps to process things. I still have so many things that just-.” He stops and puts the half eaten pizza down.

Tony touches his arm and leans his chin on Steve’s shoulder. “Tell me.”

“It’s just hard to process. I keep thinking when I go to sleep at night things will get easier the next day, but then I’m faced with something new and strange and it smacks me in the head like I’m in a boxing match and I got slugged too hard.” Steve laughs – a small and private sound. “And I’ve been slugged enough times in the head to know.”

“You know I’m a genius and I still can’t quite make out what the problem is,” Tony says. “You seem to cope pretty well for a ninety plus year old.”

“I learned a new word today,” Steve says. “Wanna know what it is?”

“Sure.”

“Cosplay,” Steve says and flips to it in his little book. “I read it on some site on the internet. It has something to do with people dressing up as their favorite characters and whatnot. I’m not sure. Every day, every single day there are new words and new things coming at me like a barrage. It’s like a frontal assault most of the time, but then these little things, like cosplay, come and knock me down from my flank. It’s exhausting.”

“If it makes you feel better, I had no idea what cosplay was until you told me,” Tony says.

Steve laughs, but the sound of it hurts Tony’s ears because it is lanced through with something painful and sharp like piercing icy rain pelting his face. A hand to Steve’s arm and Tony feels more than just a bitter vibration of the sound stabbing the air, what he feels is alien and horrible. He feels the man next to him flinch.

“Steve,” Tony murmurs and doesn’t shy away like every instinct tells him to, instead he holds on steady and fast. “Tell me.”

“I like- I like being with you,” Steve says and there’s a wetness to his eyes. “I like being away with you because the outside world is outside, shut away. When we go back to it, when we go to the city, to everything, it’s just so loud and fierce. I can’t explain it better than that.”

Tony searches Steve’s expression, his wrenched pain etched on his face. He glides a hand to the side of Steve’s face, fingers the hair along his temple, and then climbs on top of Steve’s lap. He kisses softly, almost tentatively at first. He wants to explain to Steve that in their world everything is safe, everything is secure. He won’t be plagued by anything if he doesn’t want to be. He’s Tony Stark and he can make things happen, he can keep Steve sequestered from the rest of the world, if that’s what he wants. His kiss turns more ardent, more intense as Steve allows him entrance.

He’s nose to nose with Steve when he grapples away from the kiss. They are both panting and out of breath. It is Steve who speaks first. “I don’t want to hide away, Tony. I just want an anchor.”

“Babe,” Tony says and kisses a line against his throat to the pulse point. “I’m here, I’m here.” He thinks of all the fear he has bottled inside, how he’s terrified of what might happen to Steve, how he wants to keep him hidden away but knows, eventually, he’ll have to let Steve out, he’ll have to let the world back in. “I want you, now.”

“You have me,” Steve says.

Tony gets to his feet and trails his hand behind him, dragging Steve to stand and pulling him toward the stairs. All the while, Tony kisses and touches Steve as they move across the floor. He draws him toward the stairs and thinks of holding him, touching him, how he completely breaks apart for Tony. He wants that, he wants it, now. He switches places with Steve and pushes him up against the only full wall on the floor, right next to the stairs. He places his hands on either side of Steve’s head so it means that Steve actually has to bend down to kiss him. He doesn’t care, he wants to do this, he wants to feel Steve against him, know he’s safe here, know that nothing can touch them.

Steve takes the initiative and his fingers grip Tony’s waist, bruising and intense, then find purchase at his buckle and undo it along with the zipper. “Tony, please.” His voice is more like a whine of protest. Tony pushes a hand between them and cups Steve’s groin. He rolls into it, a tremor taking his body so that he has to brace himself against the wall. 

“Gonna do this here, babe, right against the wall,” Tony says and unbuckles Steve and releases his hardening erection. 

Steve is all kinds of sensitive considering the play they’ve engaged in lately. He hisses through his teeth when Tony touches him, grips his cock, and gives it a firm stroke. He grits his teeth, and turns his face away from Tony.

“Babe, we’re gonna make this good, but you have to help me out,” Tony says and pulls out his own dick. He plays a little with the pre-come, then glides it over the head of Steve’s cock. Steve huffs an airy breath. 

“Help you, help you out,” Steve says and looks at Tony. His face is blushed red; his eyes wide, his mouth open with want. 

Tony lifts his hand and puts two fingers into Steve’s mouth and says, “Suck for me.” Steve’s tongue curls around Tony’s two fingers with a delicious curve. He’ll have to put that tongue to more use, but later, not now. With his other hand, he pushes down his own pants, shucks his shoes and does a little toe dance to get out of his pants all together. He interrupts Steve only once, but tells him to continue in a low deep voice. 

Once he’s naked from the waist down, he cocks his eyebrow at Steve and says, “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

When Tony removes his fingers from Steve’s mouth he says, “Do what?”

“Oh babe, climb you like a fucking tree,” Tony says with a grin, and hoists himself up against Steve so that their cocks line up perfectly. He wraps his legs around Steve’s hips, anchored there. Steve’s already leaking pre-come and Tony’s slicked up hand smooths it down the length of their erections. 

“Slick up, and finger my ass, babe,” Tony directs and Steve inhales sharply and bangs his head against the wall. 

“Shit,” Steve curses but sticks his index finger in his mouth and wets it, and then he shifts his grip on Tony, to hold him with both hands on his ass. He grasps with bruising strength and Tony moans. 

“Steve, touch me.” Tony grasps both of their cocks in his hand and smears their mixed pre-come until the velvet flesh is wet and glides with ease. As Tony works, pumping and stroking, Steve arches into him and his finger teases Tony’s pucker. Tony drops his head to Steve’s shoulder. “More, Steve, more.”

“Don’t want to hurt you,” Steve gasps out and groans as Tony plays with a fingernail against Steve’s tender slit on his cock. 

Tony watches his hand as he works their erections. “You want it to hurt, babe?”

“No, yes, anything, Tony, just tell me.” He’s holding Tony’s entire weight and thrusting into Tony’s fist as he slips his digit into Tony to finger him. 

“Farther, go farther,” Tony says and he can tell Steve hesitates, so he pushes his hand down a bit on his cock and squeezes so it is just painful enough for Steve to follow directions. Steve cries out and squeezes his eyes closed. 

He pushes further into Tony. The burn is delicious and Tony pants through it, until Steve’s able to find the nub of his prostate and rub it. “Right there, oh yes, right there.”

“Tony,” Steve hisses. “Please, please.”

It takes a moment for Tony to realize Steve’s begging him to continue, to get on with it. He’s holding both of their weigh and balancing them. Grabbing their cocks, Tony begins a fast and quick rhythm matching the strokes against those tormenting his own prostate. Steve’s body rocks in time with the movements, and Tony has no idea how he’s still standing, how he can handle their weight. The burn in his ass crescendos and he groans out a half yell and comes over his hand, splattering against his belly, hitting Steve’s cock. 

The hot semen leaking over Steve’s pulsating flesh is all it takes for Steve to give a jolted thrust and come in Tony’s hand as well. He pitches backward and hits the wall as he climaxes. His hips shuddering against Tony’s and he rasps out sounds that are more like sobs than a call of ecstasy.

When he comes back to himself, Steve’s wavering on his feet and says, “Tony, I-I can’t-.”

Tony realizes then that Steve’s arms are trembling and he unwraps his legs from Steve’s waist and drops back down to the floor. Steve collapses, sliding down the wall to the floor as if his limbs have no strength left. Once he’s on the floor with his legs stretched out, Tony sidles back onto his lap and cuddles close to him.

He kisses his eyes, and nose, and mouth with deliberate care. He’s trying to say something that’s caught in his throat, in his head, and he cannot express in any other way. He nuzzles against Steve’s throat and comprehends for the first time that he’s actually taking solace, he needs this as much as Steve does. This give and take, this dominance to submissive is as much a need of his as it is of Steve’s. 

“Hey, babe, you okay?”

Steve presses his fingers into his eyes and says, “I should be asking you. A little spit isn’t much lube, you know.”

“No, but I’m fine. You only used one finger.” Tony leaves his head on Steve’s chest to listen to his heart. “I might walk funny for a day or two, though.”

“Tony,” Steve sounds a little exasperated and a lot worried.

Tony caresses the side of his face, feeling the stubble there, knowing the grip and slide of flesh against flesh. “I’m fine, really, how are you?”

He shakes out his arms a little and says, “Fine, I’ll be fine, but-.”

“But?”

Steve points to the discarded food. “I could use a little more pizza.”

“Sure, but do you think we could move this upstairs into the bedroom. I’d like to get you naked, completely. Wash up a little.” Tony rings his finger around Steve’s eyes then circles his mouth.

“Don’t see why not,” Steve says. As Tony climbs off and gathers up his clothes. Steve takes his discarded shirt and wipes his hands, then crawls over to the food, packs it up, stacks it, and stands up. He closes his pants and waits for Tony. They stay close to one another as they ascend the stairs and enter the condo. Tony needs the touch, the connection. He finds that Steve craves it as well. Once they are in the condo both of them head to the bedroom, disrobe, go to the bathroom and wash and then to embrace one another in bed, the food forgotten on the side table. 

“I need,” Tony says.

“Yes?”

He presses Steve’s shoulder so that he’s lying flat on the bed, and then he covers him with his body. For so many times, Tony has resisted this position feeling as if Steve used him as some kind of security blanket. Yet now he needs it, desires it. It is Steve this time who speaks in tender tones.

“I’m here, shush, I’m here,” Steve coos and Tony feels the first lines of tears on his own face. It is then he knows that if he loses Steve, he loses a part of his own definition. He loses a part of Tony Stark, he may – in fact – lose Iron Man. 

He shivers but Steve holds him, cradles him, and shelters him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more information on Buffalo Wings go [to the Anchor Bar](http://www.anchorbar.com/original.php). Seriously, the best place in the world for them (I should know I am originally from Buffalo, NY).
> 
> This story only has 6 more chapters. I promise within the next three you will see huge movement in the plot and by chapter 11, you will understand what happened to Tony and Steve. The question is - will their love survive it. You'll know by the end of this story. Chapter 13 will determine whether or not these two belong together or not.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony discovers a few things about Happy and about himself. He also starts his investigation into who is helping Steve on his mission to destroy the new Hydra organization single handedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short but informative chapter, I hope. Sorry for typos etc., just tired of editing it - so I hope I found everything or mostly everything!

**Present Day**  
Tony starts with the little book, the only thing he has left of Steve. While Pepper runs off to work with Tony’s false promises still hanging in the air, he sequesters himself in his workshop in the Tower. There are pieces and parts of Iron Man here, there’s a model stashed away that had seen too much mileage before the whole battle of New York. Iron Man still exists – at least the armor does – the question remains will he ever don the red and gold again. 

He gave Pepper a gift, he blew the suits for a reason. He wanted to show, to demonstrate to someone who has always meant the world to him that he can be who she needs him to be, because he failed before – and not just her. When he had cried on her shoulder after Steve left, after everything that happened, he found solace with her. 

“He’s gone,” he had said when he appeared at her office just days after the incident.

“Tony, you’re going to have to be more specific than that,” Pepper replied. She had her hands perched over her keyboard and a headset on. He wondered if she had been on a teleconference. He never found out. “And you can’t come walking in here at any time.”

“I just – he’s gone and I don’t think I can go after him this time,” Tony said and turned around in the office. It felt like being in a fish bowl, glass everywhere, glass doors, glass windows. Even Pepper’s desk top was glass. 

“I think you’re talking about Steve?” Pepper said and pulled the headset off. It upset her hair, but without looking in a mirror, she tugged out the band and redid it in seconds. He always found her fascinating in how confident she had always been in her appearance. He’d like to be like that, for once. 

“Yes, who else would I be talking about? Happy, you already took Happy.” Tony clapped the air as if to get her attention.

“I didn’t take Happy, just don’t go there, Tony.” She walked over to the computer console on her wall and typed out a few orders. Spinning around, she assessed him and said, “Tell me what happened.”

That was where everything stalled out, because he couldn’t confess to her what happened. He couldn’t betray that secret. He ended up waving his hands in the air and weeping like a little girl. She’d taken pity on him, held him on her couch, then canceled all her meetings for the rest of the day. They’d gone back to the house in Malibu and she stayed with him for days. He believed mainly to ensure he didn’t drink himself into a stupor and throw himself in the ocean.

After that, things got weird. She stayed and ended up with him. He asked about Happy but she avoided the subject, repeatedly. He has no idea why she just didn’t confess that his belief that Happy and Pepper were together had been erroneous. He plans to hunt that little niggling problem down as well. He has a call into Happy for a little chat.

What he needs to do right now, instead of focusing on the past is to readjust and figure out what the hell is happening in the present. He flips through the little book. There are doodles and phrases and little notes all over it, along the margins and near sketches. Steve must have spent hours upon hours sketching out pieces and parts of modern life. 

There are pages on pages of sketches that as Tony examines them he comes to understand they are an abstract representation of how networks interact with intercalating threads to what Tony can only assume is the Internet. Tony revolves the book to see it from different angles and it is brilliant and beautiful and it throbs the ache in his chest to anew height. How did Steve conceive this? He recalls discussing virtual relationships but what Steve captured in his representation awes him. It is beautiful in both its complexity and simplicity. Steve understood more than Tony realized. He’s smarter, more confident, more cognizant of the processes and the inter-connectivity of things than Tony appreciated. 

Tony swallows and closes his eyes as he shuts the book. He shouldn’t be looking at this; he should be planning out the next phase of the new StarkPhone. Yet, the book, like a calling, pesters him throughout the day until he gives in and surrenders to it. He places it in the console and says, “JARVIS?”

“Sir?”

“Scan through the documents of the book and link these to any that might delineate clues as to Captain Rogers’ whereabouts.”

“Sir, that may take some time,” JARVIS responds. “The drawings and Captain Rogers drawing style and writing style will need to be analyzed prior to the evaluation.”

“Do it,” Tony says and continues to tinker with the upgrade for the StarkPhone, yet it is boring and not challenging enough. While he works, he instructs JARVIS to get a hold of Happy because he’d like to confront the reality of the Pepper and Happy situation head on, if possible. Off to the side is a detailed explanation of the shoulder joint – just for interest, not for Iron Man upgrades.

About midway through the morning, he scrubs at his eyes and tosses the phone aside. His fingers itch for the suit. He knows the battle worn armor is still ensconced in the workshop from before the battle of New York. It is the same armor he wore right after Steve looked to the side, then back at him with a slight grin, and challenged him to put on the suit. Right after the Helicarrier exploded and they were both flung to the floor. It was that suit he fixed the rotators on the Helicarrier, it was that suit he ended up tackling a Loki operative who had been trying to kill Captain America.

It is only meters away from him, sitting forgotten in its hold within the rings of the penthouse floor above him. His fingers twitch. “Like a god damned addict.” He wonders how long it will take for the feeling that he just amputated a limb to go away. He’s heard of phantom feelings from the loss of limbs, but he never quite comprehended what it might feel like until this moment. 

It dawns on him that he’s lost at sea. No one is there to offer him safe harbor, he hit the iceberg and he’s sinking. 

“Sir?”

He hadn’t realized his hands were shaking and he rung them through his messed hair until JARVIS called his name.

“Yes?”

“Mister Hogan has arrived at the Tower and would be available to meet with you now. Shall I send him up?”

Tony looks down at his oil stained t-shirt, his trembling hands, and the cluttered chaos of the Tower’s workshop. He really doesn’t have a choice. He combs a hand through his tangles again, knows nothing will help it now, and then he just says, “Okay, sure.”

“As you say, sir.”

“How’s that analysis coming?”

“Half way through the configuration of Captain Rogers’ handwriting style. I am currently comparing his illustration style to known illustrators of the 20th century to pin down his inspiration for a more concerted effort in the interpretation of his artwork, sir.”

“Okay, then, keep at it.” Tony adds, “JARVIS, on my to-do list please place great illustrators of the 20th century.”

“Done, sir.” JARVIS pauses, “Mister Hogan should be entering the workshop level any moment, sir.”

“Thank you, and JARVIS?”

“Yes?”

“Black out for the next hour,” Tony orders.

“Done, I will return for a check-in at 1334 hours, sir.”

As JARVIS silences, there’s a rapping on the glass doors to the workshop. Since Tony already blacked JARVIS out, he crosses the lab and goes to the doors. He presses the key to allow Happy admittance. 

“You wanted to speak with me, Mister Stark?”

The title startles him and he turns around and glares at Happy. “What the hell, Happy, we’ve been through hell and high water together, and now you’re calling me Mister?”

Happy searches around the lab space which he’s been invited into on numerous occasions while Tony was building the Tower. His reluctance to settle his gaze, his avoidance of looking directly at Tony demonstrates more than Tony really wants to know. The fact that he knocked on the door and hadn’t used his code doesn’t escape Tony’s notice. 

Tony takes solace in the fact that Happy has recovered completely from the injuries he suffered due to the whole Extremis fiasco. He jumps in front of Happy’s roaming eyes and ushers him over to the lab bench. There are a scattering of tools around and his latest updates on the phone. To break the ice, Tony tosses the prototype to Happy, who barely catches it, fumbles it, and then lands his gaze on it, almost gratefully.

“Best and brightest prototype. It’ll do just about anything short of marrying you,” Tony says and picks up a ball of twine to bounce between his hands. “That there, my friend, is the answer to all of your prayers.”

Happy flips it around in his hands and rolls his eyes a little before he finally decides it is okay to look in Tony’s direction. “Not exactly sure I needed to come all this way to look over the new prototype of the phone, Tony.”

“Sure, sure you did,” Tony says as he slaps him on the shoulder. He struts over to the console and waves his hands in the air. “You know, head of security. Need your input for security reasons and all that jazz and stuff. You get it, right?”

“Oh, oh, yeah, yeah, sure, can do,” Happy replies and furrows his brows at the phone. He starts pushing on the screen, playing with it, clearly without purpose. “Does it have some way to identify itself?”

“Identify?” Okay, twilight zone question there, big guy. “Um, if you mean like tell someone whose phone it is, sure.” He leans over and punches the app and demonstrates how the phone will only work for the designated person it has been coded for. “If you notice this one works for you.”

“And you,” Happy says.

“Backdoor, forget that,” Tony says and throws the ball of twine into the air to catch it again. 

Happy examines the phone as Tony continues to talk. Tony rolls his eyes because it is obvious Happy hasn't a clue as to what he's looking for, but that isn't the point of this whole fiasco anyway. Tony runs his hands over his work bench, knocks it twice, and then leaps in. 

"So, all recovered?"

Happy looks up at him and processes what Tony just asked like he's quizzing him on setting up a base on the moon and its security. It hits him then and he nods. "Yep, boss, all's good."

"Great, great," Tony says and swings his arms around clapping them in front and behind him. Who knew this would be so damned difficult to broach? He recalls the absolute helplessness he felt when seeing Happy in the hospital room with a ventilator down his throat, how every damned thing that happened to Pepper from then on was Tony's fault because he couldn't control himself - because he lost control. 

He stops, and thinks about how long it's been since someone helped him, someone who knew him down into the whirlwind of his sins, laid himself bare to be battered with the chaos that is Tony Stark so that he, Tony Stark, could learn self-control. 

Son of a bitch.

He blinks too many times and denies why. "Okay then, you're good?"

"Yeah, boss," Happy says and his eyes narrow. Happy is a nice guy, a sweet guy, who deserves the best, not Tony's antics, not his transgressions. "You okay?"

Tony comes to himself and sighs. "Yeah, I just wanted to know how the head of security is doing. Thinking maybe you'll come back to work for me?"

Happy stops playing with the phone and places it, almost reverently, onto the work bench. "I'd like that."

Tony coughs. "Wh-what? Really?"

"Well, you're not Iron Man anymore; you need a head of security here to protect you, right?" Happy says and looks around in the cave of Tony's workshop. There cannot be a more secure place on the planet. 

"I - I probably, I'm not sure - I just - you don't want to be with Pepper?"

"Yes, I mean no, I mean," Happy puffs out a breath and scrubs at his hair a little. "I think you need me more."

"But Pepper needs protection, too." Tony can't be sure when this conversation when so off the rails. "Aren't you concerned about that?"

Happy's face reddens and it isn't with a blush but with a rage like fury. "Of course, I'm concerned about Ms Potts. What do you think of me? Everyone thinks I'm just a stupid oaf, I'm not, I care."

"Happy, I-."

"I try, you know, I might not be some billionaire smartie pants."

"Smartie pants."

"Should be smart aleck if you ask me, I might not be everything any girl would-."

"Happy, please, damned it; I just wanted to make sure you would want to do that." Tony puts his hands up in surrender. "I know how much Pepper means to you."

Happy opens his mouth to dispute this statement, but instead, turns away slightly and chews on his words.

"Happy, let me ask you something," Tony says. Happy keeps mumbling under his breath, and Tony catches a few curse words that are directed at him. He ignores them and says, "Are you dating?"

Happy scrunches up his face and blushes this time. "No, I tried. The nurse in the hospital was real nice, but she had designs."

"Designs?"

"On other things, other people," Happy says, and looks Tony up and down. 

While it makes Tony uncomfortable and makes him want to bonk the idiot nurse on the head for seeking out a way into Tony's pants, and passing by a great guy like Happy, this isn't his point or his fight at the moment. 

"Oh, so," Tony says. "Give me the skinny Happy, what do you think about Pepper?"

Happy clicks his mouth open and closed again a few times, scans the room as if he's frightened there's cameras lurking (which there always are and he should know better), and finally says, "She's a great person, boss. You could do a lot worse."

"And she could do a lot better, Happy," Tony says and folds his arms. "I didn't ask you how you think my relationship with Pepper is, I'm asking you about Pepper. How you feel about Pepper?"

Happy falls silent and looks down at his hands, his big, warm hands. Tony bets that Happy could warm Pepper's hands. A few minutes pass before Happy says, "She's a great gal, boss. A great person. She likes art, a lot, and likes to talk about it. Sometimes, when I was your driver and went with her to purchase a piece, she'd let me come up and see it. She'd explain it to me. She's so smart and bright. I - think -I -."

"You think the sun rises and sets with Pepper."

"Yeah, I - no, boss, that's not what I mean," Happy says and he bows his head and looks to the side. Tony has never seen him so humble, so stunned, and so frightened to voice his thoughts. 

Tony leans back against the bench and says, "It's okay big guy, I can take it. You love Pepper."

"Boss," Happy says, and his words wilt and the mortification drains his face of all color.

"It's okay, I want to know, I want people to be honest here. No one is ever fucking honest with anyone anymore. It is a like a freaking merry-go-round trying to get the answer. It isn't that hard. You love her, right?" He just wants to fix this, and, how he wants to fix it is the right way. He doesn't want to be greedy and consume every friend and love and family member around him anymore. He wants to be able to sacrifice and offer something without feeling like he's fallen into the abyss every time. 

He wants to be truthful, and, the god damned truth is - he is Iron Man. And he cannot make Pepper happy if he's Iron Man. He wants, above all else, for her to be happy. He cannot make her happy if he is Iron Man. Blowing up suits and pretending is arrogant and self-absorbed, he refuses to do this to her.

Happy whispers an answer. "Yes." It is long and drawn out and hurts in his soul, but it is honest.

Tony claps a hand on Happy's shoulder. "I want you to take care of her, you hear? I want you to be there for her."

"Be there?"

"Because I'm going to break her heart and she needs you more than ever, Happy. She needs you more than ever," Tony says and as Happy draws in a breath, Tony nods and says, "I think, I think I need some time now." His hands are shaking and his heart pounds an awful beat in his head, the explosion of pain is only mitigated by the fact he knows he's doing the right thing.

"Okay, boss, okay." Happy shuffles away, but before he swings the door open to leave, he faces Tony and says, "I'm here for you, too. You know that boss, right?"

Tony allows himself a smile. It feels sad and aches but he says, "Yeah, I've always known that."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is called back to SHIELD, but Tony has his reservations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of the end....hope you enjoy it.

**Eight Months Before Malibu**  
The old ski resort restaurant has been gutted to the walls, actually there are no walls left just an open skeleton of beams and joists. The bar, where he once found an old bottle of Scotch to share with Steve, is torn away and ripped to shreds. Pieces and parts of it pile up in the front of the restaurant as workers continue to progress through the current building/remodeling plans.

Tony rode up to the main restaurant of the ski resort to check on the headway on converting it into a student union. The old pine paneling has been removed and the planks build a fortress near the front of the restaurant. The old furniture, the tables and chairs, have long since been removed. When Tony walks into the place he doesn’t recognize it, and surely cannot tell exactly where he fucked Steve over table only a few months before in this hollowed out shell of a structure. The foreman greets him and they briefly go over the plans. Tony points out some corrections and revisions. 

He consults the electrician, because while the institute will not have access to JARVIS it will have an artificial intelligence available for any and all administrative as well as managerial duties. He needs to have the specifications right so that he can install the correct wiring to manage the servers and satellite feeds he’ll require. He spends a good two hours reviewing the plans and modifying what can and cannot be done. Tony isn’t a person to take a no for an answer. When he gets one, he tries to find ways around it, and he usually does.

The electrician is satisfied and, Tony can tell, slightly awed by the improvements to his plans. The racket as the construction crew rips apart the rest of the building and begins the remodel overwhelms him so he leaves the premises. Overlooking the grounds of the old ski resort, Tony realizes he truly needs to start calling it the institute now. Not only has the remodel started in earnest on the restaurant, but also several of the buildings for classrooms and laboratories have been initiated. He can glimpse a few of the cranes and heavy equipment in the distance. 

The spring day warms and invigorates him. May has arrived and he can barely recall the cold of the winter. He tries not to think of what happened over the expanse of time, about New York and the invasion, about dying but surviving the cold of space, about Steve and the streams of red stains on his arms from the maniacs after his blood. His attempts fail, and he’s brought back to those moments, but all crushed together into one horrible intensely claustrophobic feeling. He puffs out some air and his chest tightens. Bands around his ribs, like massive hands – like the Hulk’s hands, compressing him rob him of the ability to inhale. He stumbles to the sidewalk and lists to the piles of broken furniture, the tables and chairs collected for the dump. 

He catches sight of the chairs as he struggles to breathe, as he turns away from the construction workers trying to hide his anxiety, trying to cover up that he just might be having a fucking heart attack, and where the hell is his god damned suit when he needs it? He grabs hold of one of the chair backs and steadies himself. Closing his eyes, he recalls the last time he leaned against one of these chairs, the last time he sat in one. He’d just finished ravaging the good captain, fucked him over a table. The thought roils in his belly as a flash of an image, of thrusting into the captain right here; right in front of these workers turns the anxiety, the panic into an intense desire, a craving. 

He grapples to stand, his head’s a little light, and he’s dizzy from the feeling. Maybe he is having a heart attack, but his dick tells him differently and he follows its wants first and foremost. He yanks the keys to the gator out of his pocket and jumps into the driver’s seat. As he shifts it into gear he hears the crack of thunder and peers over his shoulder. He hadn’t seen the darkened clouds to the west; the teams will close up for the day if it gets too stormy. He hopes not, he wants to make major progress on the site before Steve has to leave. He’s been making noises about going back to SHIELD to check in and that he has commitments.

As Tony drives down the long hill toward the condo, he waves to a few of the workers and then drives along the gravel road to the condo site. There are several pickup trucks parked along the side of the garage since he hired a team to help with the dry wall and construction of the architectural parts of the workshop. He hops out of the gator, crosses the yard, and skips down the steps into the basement and his soon-to-be workshop.

What he sees stops him dead in his tracks. 

Steve naked from the waist up, with his t-shirt slung in his back jeans’ pocket, lifting a sheet of dry wall to be hammered into place by several of the workers. Steve’s obviously been working for some time, since sweat in a light sheen covers his broad, contoured back. From the angle on the stairs, Tony notices the width of the good captain’s shoulders to the smaller yet fit waist. There isn’t a molecule of fat on the guy. If he ever had to go without food for days, he’d waste away, losing muscle mass. The thought urges him onward and he descends the rest of the stairs as the workers finish driving in the nails with their nail guns. 

“Helping out?” Tony calls and notes the strangulated quality of his voice.

Steve turns and pulls the t-shirt out of his pocket. He wipes his hands and dabs at his brow. “A little.”

“Guys,” Tony says and thumbs it to the door. “Take an early lunch.”

“Yes, sir,” the one holding the largest gun says and escorts the rest of them out. Tony follows them and locks the door.

When he returns, Steve smiles at him from a downward glance and it almost feels like someone’s actually tickled Tony’s nerves from the inside. He is that adorable. “Come here.”

Tony reaches out and Steve walks directly into his arms. Tony keeps the kiss; light, almost chaste in its feel. He wants just to feel the strength of Steve, wants to know that Steve is alive and breathing in his arms, he wants Steve to be with him always.

He breaks away and says, “Quit SHIELD.”

Steve blinks a few times and looks down at Tony in puzzlement. “What?”

“Quit SHIELD, why stay? You have the Avengers; you don’t have to be part of SHIELD, too. Plus, you can live with me; you don’t need it for the money.” Tony knows he’s pushing, against a wall, against the great wall but nothing in his head can stop him from doing something stupid once he’s set his mind to it.

Steve steps away as the logical part of Tony’s head told him he would. “Tony, the Avengers are not out working every day. We’re barely out once every six months. I have no idea how much the Avengers will be invoked. I have to have something to make me feel functional,” Steve says. 

“Functional?” Tony reaches out and catches his wrist. “Babe, we can find that out together.”

Steve smiles and it is soft and sweet and means no harm, but Tony can’t help but feel as if Steve is trying to let him down as tenderly as possible. “I’m not going to sit around and be your kept man, Tony.” He laughs as if it isn’t supposed to hurt, Tony is sure of that, but it does and he feels the panic well up again.

“I’m not asking you to, but do you trust SHIELD? Can you? They’ve effectively dropped the ball on these Hydra people who tried to abduct you and kill you,” Tony says. “You can’t say there isn’t something fishy about that.”

Steve clasps Tony’s hands in his own and brings them to his mouth, kissing his fingertips. “That is why I have to stay, that is why I have to be a part of the organization if I want to find out what is going on inside.”

“You think it might be an inside job?” This causes all kinds of alarm bells to screech in Tony’s head, even louder than before. He needs Steve to stay here, with him, out of harm’s way, safely hidden. 

“I don’t know, Tony, but I have to find out. People with that much power, well,” Steve sighs. “They come not to respect it, to use it without thought of the consequences, look at what happened in New York.”

Tony breaks away and turns. “I’d really rather not.” He feels the strong grip of Steve’s hand on his shoulder. 

“You know, the night before the experiment, before I became who I am now, Doctor Erskine and I talked. He wanted to see if I was prepared, if I could handle it,” Steve says. “He asked me to do something, he asked me to make sure I was always a good man, even if I could never be a perfect soldier. He was right, I’ll never be a perfect soldier, but I try always to be a good man even with the gifts that have been given to me. Some people, well, they didn’t have someone like Erskine to guide them, however brief. Tony, you see why I can’t just up and leave SHIELD, now?” 

Tony nods and allows Steve to turn him. “I get it, I do.” He tries not to let the panic strain his voice.

Steve leans down and he takes Tony’s chin in his hands and tips his face upward. “Don’t worry, you worry too much.”

“And you think you’re invincible too much.”

Steve gives that crooked smile to Tony again, tilts his head, and winks. “Maybe a little.”

They kiss.

“Maybe a lot,” Tony adds.

Tipping foreheads together, Steve says, “That actually brings up something I have to talk to you about.”

“Hmm?”

“Fury called me in,” Steve says and Tony tenses under his embrace. “Just for a meet up, they want to brief me on some rumblings that have been going on in the Senate.”

“Rumblings in the Senate?” Tony parts from Steve and frowns. “The Senate sucks.”

“Tony,” Steve says with exasperation.

“I’m telling you they are always trying to get my best stuff,” Tony says and points to Steve.

He looks down at himself and says, “What?”

“You, they’re trying to get you,” Tony replies and crosses his arms. He feels a little bit like a child on the verge of having a tantrum, but he doesn’t want Steve away from him, not even for one minute. 

“Oh for Pete’s sake, they are not trying to get me, Tony. No one owns me, not even you.”

Tony lifts an eyebrow as he considers the implications of that little statement. He wonders if there is a way to fix that jagged crack in his long term plan. 

“Don’t start, Tony,” Steve warns but it is playful and light. “Come on, I have to leave tonight. Don’t be like that.”

“Okay, then tell me what you know,” Tony stands his ground.

Steve huffs and slumps his shoulders in defeat. “There’s something about registering all superheroes or something.”

“What?”

“They’re concerned that more and more people with extraordinary powers are coming to light. What this might mean to the general populace, how safe people will feel or not feel. The Senate is considering whether or not to draft legislation which would effectively make all superheroes reveal their identities and register with the Federal government,” Steve says. “There’s some concern about super villains, what would happen if someone unknown were to use their power for something not so righteous. It could lead to a lot of civilians hurt or worse.”

“Wow,” Tony says.

“Yeah, they want me to come in and give them my opinion,” Steve says.

“Which is?”

“I’m still considering it, weighing. I want to see the proposed language before I make a call on it,” Steve says and squints at Tony. “It rankles me a bit, I’m worried about it. I don’t like labeling people. I came from a time where millions of people died because of who they were. What do you think?”

“Not sure, but it seems like it might be an effective way to regulate the possible harm, the possible threat level,” Tony says. Anything to make sure Steve will be safe; all his loved ones will be safe. If there are other people out there like Loki or Hydra, it should be regulated, shouldn’t it?

“Tony Stark for a Registration Act,” Steve laughs. “A Stark for more government regulation. Never thought I’d see the day. And what will we do if I come out against it?”

Tony sidles up to him and lands his arms around that deliciously slender waist. “I guess we’ll have to have our own personal civil war.”

“Civil war is that what they’ll call it?” Steve says as he lines Tony’s forehead then his eyes with light, fluttering kisses. “You and your superheroes on one side, me and my superheroes on the other side. Think of that.”

Tony slides his hands over the broad chest, feels the pounding of Steve’s heart under his open palm, and then glides his hands under that fucking perfect jaw. “Think of all the spectacular make up sex we could have after battling all day.” 

“I’d imagine it would be quite exhausting,” Steve licks the inside of Tony’s throat and then nibbles on his ear. “I imagine we might have to set up rules of engagement,” he whispers in Tony’s ear. “Like if my side fell, I’d come to you in defeat, surrender, and then drop to my knees.”

He slides down to his knees in front of Tony and peers up at him. The blue of his irises lost to the black of desire. His fingers work deftly and open Tony’s pants, pull out his achingly hard dick. “I imagine part of surrendering to you would be to give myself over to you.”

He opens his mouth and in one go, completely engulfs Tony and deep throats him. Tony feels his dick hit the back of Steve’s mouth. And then he sees Steve let his arms relax and drift to hold them behind his back as if he’s in restraints. 

Tony groans and grabs for Steve’s head. He massages his hands into the hair, feels the sweat captured there, and moans out as Steve swirls his tongue and suckles with his mouth. Steve leans forward urging him on with the slightest motion and Tony follows. He thrusts harder; feels Steve open his throat further to accommodate his girth, and the rasp of Steve’s inhalation against his groin. Tugging on his hair, Tony murmurs, “More, babe, more.”

Steve answers his want by pumping his tongue along the underside of Tony’s dick and relaxes his mouth allowing Tony to fully pound into him. He feels like he shouldn’t, but he fucking needs to get the stress, the panic out. Steve doesn’t relent; he pulls his jaw in a motion to pump Tony onward, then closes down his mouth and contracts his lips. The action causes Tony to yank at Steve’s hair and shove his dick in as far as possible, letting out a scream as he comes. Steve relaxes his throat at just the right moment to drink it down.

It is seconds later when he realizes Steve’s drawn his arms around Tony’s legs to stabilize him. He thrusts forward in a languid rocking style just to enjoy the feel of Steve’s velvet tongue against the head of his dick. It feels like heaven. If he could have that mouth to screw everyday he’d die happy. 

His strength fails him and he falls to his knees in front of Steve. They cuddle into one another and Tony puts his hand down to cup Steve’s erection. When he goes to open Steve’s jeans, a hand stills him. 

“No,” Steve whispers.

“What?”

“Want to save it,” Steve touches his lips to the inside of Tony’s throat. “Want to be turned on, wanting you until I get back.”

“You won’t stay hard for that long,” Tony says and rubs a few times through the thick fabric, enough to make Steve hitch his breath. 

“Call you every night, every day,” Steve kisses right below Tony’s ear. “Call you and you’ll tell me what you’re going to do to me. Every day, every hour.”

“Fuck.”

Steve growls. “Something like that, but I was hoping for a little more.”

Tony laughs and they tumble to the dusty floor. Lying face to face, Tony wipes away sweat soaked hair and says, “Don’t go.”

“I have to go,” Steve says. “Tell me to come back.”

“I’ll always tell you to come back,” Tony says.

“Always?”

“Come back, Steve,” Tony smiles and kisses him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All, I am very nervous about this chapter. I am even posting it a little earlier than I would have liked because I have to see what your reaction will be. This chapter paired with Chapter 11 will lead to horrible things for Tony and Steve. Only Chapter 12 and 13 will tell whether or not it is truly the end. Please tell me your thoughts, does it work or not? 
> 
> And for those interested in updates on my writing find me [ on tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com) . Fair warning I am a bleeding heart liberal and proud of it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony figures out some important things.

**Present Day**  
Spread out in front of him in holographic display is an array of images and lettering from Steve’s little book. JARVIS quilted pages together that were separate, but linked by topic or time. Tony follows a thread and takes a misplaced box to move it to its proper position, after all he understands Steve’s mind better than anyone in this century.

This thought hurts. How can he be the closest thing Steve has to friend, family, and lover and not know where the hell he is or if he is all right or even if he is in danger? That last thought spurs him on and he works furiously through the details of the book.

He connects Steve’s contacts and comes to understand who Steve relies on for specific pieces of information. He constructs a list:

Nick Fury – basics of SHIELD politics

Maria Hill – SHIELD protocols and regulations

Natasha Romanov – Soviet Union, Communism, how not to offend a woman

Clint Barton –Video Games, Modern Poverty in the USA, Acrobatics

Bruce Banner – Physics, Super Serum, Medical concerns

Thor – Asgard, Norse mythology, Loki, good places to eat

Jane Foster – Physics, Asgard, women are smart

Agent 13(?) – SHIELD operative (?)

Sam Wilson(?)

Tony stops when he comes to people he doesn’t know and cannot link to anything or anyone else in the book. Who the hell is Agent 13 and why does Steve have a note about Peggy Carter next to the scribble. Sam Wilson has a picture of a falcon drawn next to his name which makes no sense at all to Tony. 

It occurs to Tony about a third of the way through the analysis that Steve lived an entire life that Tony had barely scraped at the surface of – there was so much he still could have shared with Steve. He never really understood Steve and Howard’s relationship. He would have liked to know more about, would have like to have teased out why Howard turned into such a bastard when, as a young man, he’d been daring and arrogant and a lot like Tony.

He opens up his hands and pushes the list to the side. He needs a break. Stretching, he calls out to JARVIS. “Is the armor still in the rings?”

“The Mark VI, sir, yes it is. It has substantial damage from the rotators on the Helicarrier but it is functional.” 

“Let’s pull it out and get a read on how much damage.”

“Sir, may I remind you that you’ve made a promise to Ms. Potts,” JARVIS says.

“You may not,” Tony replies. Tony moves over to the area of the workshop directly below the rings. The ceiling glides open and the robotic arms reach downward with pieces of the armor connected to them. It is nicked up and scarred terribly, but it is a sight that sets his heart thrumming in his chest. He smiles and says, “Come to poppa.” It is all he can do, not to kiss the damned thing.

JARVIS extends the arms of the rings holding the armor so that Tony can reach it. When he examines it, it is apparent from the damage that his lack of attention to this model after New York left it with very little functional. 

“JARVIS give me a read on what’s working and what’s not?” He twists the arm around and notices a dent and a scrape down the elbow joint.

“Sir, the flight stabilizers are not functioning reliably as you may remember from your flight to New York from the Helicarrier.” JARVIS continues. “The right elbow joint has some damage to it, as does the left lower leg. You may also be reminded the armor constructed for your use connected to your arc reactor.”

“All the suits had independent power sources,” Tony says and taps the center chest piece. He knows what JARVIS is pointing out; his arc reactor – long gone now – will not be a source for the armor. The very first models he designed were solely fueled by the arc reactor in his chest. Seeing the error in that, Tony worked to separate that need and every suit had its own reactor. This one did as well, but it also needed Tony’s reactor for extra power which allowed armor that Tony wore to be more powerful than most of the independent models, especially War Machine (no, it would never be Iron Patriot to Tony).

It had been his own little secret that whatever suit of armor Tony wore, it would always be the most powerful because of the extra kick he gave it. “Let’s suit up.”

“Sir, some of the dents might make it very uncomfortable.”

Tony frowns. “It’s nice that you’re worried about my dick, JARVIS, but it’ll be fine.” He mutters to himself, “Not using it much anymore anyhow.” Pepper and Tony had been sleeping apart since the entire Extremis fiasco as they worked out a new definition of their relationship. He knows they love each; it’s just in what capacity.

“You may want to think about masturbating, sir. I understand it relieves not only sexually tension, but stress and it releases positive endorphins in the brain,” JARVIS notes as the armor lowers further like a lover.

“Seriously, JARVIS, my man, I do not need to hear that while you're wrapping your cold mechanical arms around me,” Tony says as he steps into the circle to allow the suit to form and embrace him.

“Just thought I would offer, sir.”

“Kinky, bastard.”

“I only strive to emulate my creator, sir.” JARVIS completes configuring the suit around Tony and then it begins to clamps and lock in place.

“JARVIS, do you know that you know far too much about me?” Tony replies as the helmet covers his head and the faceplate come down. The HUD flickers once and comes on line. 

JARVIS sets a stream of Tony’s sexual likes and dislikes on the screen and Tony rolls his eyes. “You are a particular little snot, you know that don’t you?”

“I only try and live up to your needs, sir,” JARVIS comes back and Tony starts to wonder about sentience and if he should be further concerned about it. He’ll have to give Hank a call in the morning. They were talking about A.I. and creating a robotic force. This might give him pause.

As the suit finally finishes forming and interlocking around him, he stands for a moment. He feels its embrace like a long lost lover and as a known enemy. It is both his blessing and his curse. He remembers the first time he donned a suit of armor, in a cave in Afghanistan. He’d been mad with fear and desire to escape. When Yinsen died and the armor was the only thing between him and following that brave man to the darkness beyond, it became his shell, his cocoon to stay safe. 

From then on, he retreated into it when he needed solace, when he needed to feel powerful, when he needed to feel safe from the world. He tries to figure out what it means now, he tries to maneuver around with it and ask what it symbolizes now, beyond a suit of armor. Is it Tony Stark, or is he Tony Stark. He is Iron Man or Tony Stark, are they one in the same?

He put his internal debate away for a while and just relishes being back in the suit and acknowledges that this is a significant part of his definition. He missed it and he wants more of it. Either as a suit of armor or something else. He knows the suit doesn’t define him, Steve once asked him if he took away the suit – what was left. He had given a flippant remark but there was more to it. He knows now that he’s more than the suit, he’s become a hero in his own right, and not only by driving the nuke into the portal, but also by the fact he turned away from a multi-billion dollar business manufacturing weapons to do something good. He remade himself into someone he wants more than money and fame. He’s learned control.

“Son of a bitch,” he murmurs as it dawns on him that his list is not complete. Just as he’s about to ask JARVIS to display the list on the HUD, the A.I. interrupts him.

“Sir, Ms. Potts has entered the Tower.”

“She has?” Tony says. He’s still in the Iron Man armor. He has a chance to take it off, to hide it away. He doesn’t move.

“Sir, she has entered the elevator and is ascending. Would you like me to halt it” JARVIS asks.

He weighs the possibilities. He knows what he’s gambling and, for a moment, he’s drawn back to the memories of Vegas and the craps table. He recalls Steve and the way he threw the dice, so precisely he could nearly control the fall of the cubes. It was a miracle to see. He doesn’t have that ability, but he knows he could control this situation, he has the capacity. It is, after all, a simple decision. Stay in the suit or not. 

“Sir?”

“No,” Tony says. The words make him overheat a little but he knows he’s doing the right thing. “No, JARVIS, do not halt the elevator.”

“Would you prefer that I hide you?” 

Tony giggles a bit. “JARVIS, you are a doll, seriously? How do you think you can hide a huge armored suit?”

The elevator rings and Tony turns to it, waiting for Pepper to round the corner to his workshop, waiting for her to appear. She’s walking and looking down at her StarkPhone. Her attention stays on the phone’s screen until she enters the workshop and looks up. The smile on her face fades and she says, “I’ll have to get back to you.” She taps the phone and puts it on the table. “Are you in there?”

The faceplate lifts and he says, “Yeah, Pep.”

She closes her eyes and he hates what he sees. He hates that he’s just torn up her world like it was a piece of junk mail. He immediately wants to tape it all back together again, but he can’t. He doesn’t think he has all the pieces and it wouldn’t be fair anyhow. He’s not the one who should be pasting things back in place. He tears things apart.

“Tony,” she whispers and her eyes open. The sadness drains a good portion of his heart away until he feels like the hollowed out part of his chest, the part that will never be the same again.

He thinks he should be saying, it isn’t what you think. I just had to review something for my revisions on War Machine (never going to be Iron Patriot- again). He should be making up excuses, spewing them at her. He shouldn’t just stand there, silent and unmoving.

“Well?” she says.

“Well?”

“Where are the excuses?” she asks. She knows him too well.

He wants to shrug but the armor really doesn’t give the ability to pull off subtle gestures. He swallows and offers her the truth. They both deserve the truth.“There are none.”

“None, really, you’re Tony Stark, the king- the king of fucked up-.”

“Pepper!” Tony exclaims. “Watch your mouth.”

“What you can say fuck, but I walk in on my boyfriend busy with his little tryst, and I can’t say fuck?” Pepper becomes a brilliant shade of red.

“Tryst? I am not having an affair with my suit. I’ve never even masturbated in it,” Tony says but he keeps it to himself that he’s kind of once or twice might have tried, and that he routinely masturbates to thoughts of the suit. 

“Tony, you promised,” she says and places her hand on her forehead like she needs to steady herself and find something to ground her.

“Hey, hey are you okay?” He steps closer to her but she raises her hand to stop him.

“No, Tony, no,” Pepper says. “I can’t do this. I really can’t.” She looks at him and her eyes are tired and lovely, and he wants to stab his own eyes out. He doesn’t want to cause that expression on her face. He hates that it is his fault, but it is the truth. In the end he cannot escape the truth. She smiles but it hurts as she says, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

She stands there as if she expects him to fight, and he thought he would too, but he can’t. There’s nothing to say. He is Iron Man. So he simply states, “I am Iron Man.”

She nods and there are tears in her eyes. She crosses the distance between them, leans up to him and kisses his lips. “I know.”

She leaves then, and he knows they’ve just ended. They will always be family, but they will never be lovers again. He stumbles for a moment. They both needed to face the truth, and live with it. This is what he wanted, but why does it hurt so god damned much. He sucks in a breath and tries to divert his thoughts. He needs to thinks of something else. He fumbles around in the suit, at first claustrophobic and at last in need of it. He hates the fact he’s using it as a shield again, but doesn’t everyone need a little security. Sometimes, it is impossible to face the world without something for protection. 

He needs a diversion, right here, right now.

The list. 

And who is helping Steve.

He looks it over again. “Son of a bitch.” There are two names missing. “Tony Stark.” He knows he’s not helping Steve. “JARVIS.”

“Yes, sir?”

“No, JARVIS, I was just listing you. You should be on the list of possibilities.” The thought that JARVIS could have been assisting Steve all this time feels like a knock to the head.

“Sir?”

Tony inhales a breath and says, “JARVIS has Steve been in contact with you?”

“Sir?”

“Answer the question JARVIS,” Tony says. 

“My programming prevents me from directly answering you, sir.”

“Son of a bitch,” he repeats for a third time. He’d given Steve certain privileges when he installed a version of JARVIS up at the institute. That version would have integrated and become universal to all the access points. “Do you know where Steve is?”

“Currently, sir? No, I do not.”

“Have you in the last eight months known the location of Steve Rogers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck a duck.”

His own A.I. has been helping Steve all along, right under his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A necessarily short chapter. The next three chapters will be the culmination of Steve and Tony and their love story. Will it survive? We will see.
> 
> Oh and I am on vacation this week so while I will try to update it might take a while to finish off chapter 11 - the chapter where we find out what happened between Tony and Steve.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things fall down and break up.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cautions are noteworthy for this chapter. First, please remember this is a pair of men new to the BDSM lifestyle and bad things can happen. This is a particularly brutal chapter. Please note the tags. It was a difficult chapter to write and I think it will be a difficult one to read. There may be questions of consent as well, but I don't actually see it that way, but I am noting it here just in case it might trigger anyone. 
> 
> Additionally, this chapter happens before (as all the chapters thus far with Steve and Tony) the events of Iron Man 3. I see Tony in Iron Man 3 as a man struggling to piece himself back together again. This chapter does fit prior to those struggles and is an AU to why Tony might be so very casual as he goads a terrorist. He's on a path of self-destruction.

**Less than Eight Months Before Malibu**  
After Steve leaves, Tony finds himself at odds. Energy builds and becomes pent up. He paces the condo, visits the different building sites, and finally gets JARVIS up and running in the condo. He programs JARVIS to accept certain commands, commands he usually reserves for himself, from Steve. He tries to call Steve several times but it goes directly to voice mail and the few times he’s able to get through to him their calls are abbreviated and awkward because Steve is stuck at SHIELD. During the first week, Tony refuses to touch himself because he thinks it would be good to just allow the need to intensify. This ends up being a mistake because Steve calls him mid-way through the first weekend apart and tells him he can’t make it back to the institute.

“I thought you were just being briefed on the proposed language?” Tony asks, literally tugging at his hair strands because he needs Steve here with him.

“I thought so too, but a few of the Senators want to discuss the language in person. It probably won’t even get out of committee this year, but they’re determined to get my read on it.” Steve sounds frustrated as well, and an edge in his voice tells Tony he can’t speak freely.

“Where are you staying?”

“Right now,” Steve sighs. “At SHIELD. We’re shipping out to D.C. in the morning. I’ll be there through at least part of next week.”

“Can’t you get to the Tower?” Tony starts thinking of the benefits of phone sex.

Steve hesitates but then says, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Are they? Are they watching you, Steve?” Tony asks and his nerves itch with irritation. Why the hell would they put Steve under surveillance? 

“Of course they are, we’re all a threat, you know that,” Steve keeps his answer very non-committal and this ratchets up his concern. “But don’t worry; I’ll be back by the middle of next week at the latest.”

Tony closes the phone call with nothing more than a short good-bye since he can’t even confess his feelings for Steve. They haven’t come out to SHIELD, yet, and while he doesn’t believe they don’t know what’s up, he also doesn’t want them investigating too deeply what Tony and Steve are doing. 

The nightmares start up in earnest that night. He wakes shivering, covered in cold sweat, and in need of a stiff drink. He holds the tumbler as if his life depends on it, but his hands quake and spill the bourbon everywhere. He curses and when he does, JARVIS answers.

“Sir, is there anything I might do?”

He rubs his forehead, right where Steve always gets those beautiful little furrow lines on his brow. He mumbles a no and stumps off to his workshop. He gets nothing done because the place isn’t fit to work in just yet. But he’s lying on the dusty floor staring up at array of niches in the wall where he’ll store different versions of the suit when it comes to him. He smiles.

The very next day he begins a new project. It entails crawling around in the attic space of the condo which is really no more than a cramped garret with especially claustrophobic inducing rafters. He measures and plans. By the afternoon, he has a two by two part of the ceiling removed and he’s hanging down into his bedroom. By the evening he’s on the internet ordering the exact parts and equipment he needs with express delivery. He smiles. He hopes Steve will like the idea.

It expands – the idea and he wonders if he should renovate a floor in the Tower and that just makes him think he’s turning into some weird ass dom like in that mass production book Fifty Shades of Fucked up and Doesn’t understand what being in a dominant submissive relationship is. When he tucks in to a meal, because he wants to eat – because it is what Steve would like to hear as a report for his day, he scrolls through internet sites on how to be the best and most caring in a BDSM relationship. This keeps his mind occupied – until he goes to sleep.

The nightmares follow him again. The heart palpitations scare him and he tells JARVIS to monitor him constantly. He has trouble breathing in the morning and when Steve calls he has to pretend he’s just finished a work-out.

“Working out?” Steve asks, obviously doubtful of his lie.

“Of course, but I do have a surprise for you. A big surprise. When are you coming home?”

“Few days?” Steve says and he sounds weary. “I don’t like what they’re saying to me, Tony. This whole thing – it gets me – it brings me back.”

“Back?” Tony notes that at least Steve has forgotten to interrogate him on the supposed work-out but also that he has no interest in the surprise. 

“To the war, it scares me. You can’t start labeling people and putting them in special categories.” 

“Isn’t being a superhero by definition being in a special category alone?”

Steve remains silent on the phone, but finally mutters. “I guess. I just don’t know.”

“Steve,” Tony wants to soothe him but he’s just not sure how. He decides on a different avenue. “Come home.”

“Home?” Something in his voice catches and causes Tony to think Steve isn’t exactly sure where home might be. “Soon.”

Again, the phone call ends without platitudes or loving wishes and Tony hates himself a little more. He wonders how much he could possibly hate himself. Steve has been a gift to him, someone who lies himself bare and open to Tony – offers everything and asks for only Tony to be who Tony is – deep inside. He needs Steve back home. 

 

The next day he throws himself back into the work, his surprise gift for Steve and forgets about sleep. He won’t sleep, therefore the nightmares and panic will not plague him. He’s a smart guy, he understands how this works. 

Steve calls him on Wednesday night. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself, what’s up?” The little renovation project he started over the weekend he completed today. He’s dead tired but hasn’t given in to sleeping yet. It is bad enough flashes of memories haunt him in his waking hours.

“Coming back tomorrow,” Steve says. The weary, almost beaten tones of his voice give Tony pause.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, everything,” Steve says. “Not sure I want to talk about it. Not right now anyway.”

“Well, I’ve been working on a new project, so I think that we can discuss when you get here.”

Steve must be worn out because he doesn’t drill Tony to find out what it is about, he must think Tony’s referring to the institute and the progress on that front. He hears a knock in the background and Steve sighs. “I have to go, Tony. See you tomorrow?”

“Sure.” All he wants to do is reach through the phone and comfort Steve. Steve rarely shows emotion outside of their bedroom. He’s stalwart and stoic most of the time, wrapping himself into a blanket of strength and resolution that’s unshakeable. When Tony finishes up with his special renovations and places his new gift to Steve in the bedroom, he collapses on the bed and stares at the ceiling. The exhaustion in his muscles aches and he can barely see for the bleariness. He succumbs to the need to sleep, falling off and falling into the images that are real and horrible.

New York plagues him and he trembles through the reality of his memories. When it turns bloody and red, he knows what it means; he knows he will see all his loved ones dead and mangled in the ashes of New York. He glimpses everyone he knows and loves from Rhodey, to Bruce, to Pepper, and finally Steve. Steve stands in the middle of the ashes, a bloody ruin across his chest and his face until he finally sinks into the rubble, the light of life drained from his eyes. He sees nothing more. Tony is swallowed by the darkness of space and there’s nothing he can do but sink through the void and struggle for air that is not there.

Something holds him, grasps him and he falls into the embrace. He recalls it is Bruce as the other guy who saved him but these arms are different, these hold a different kind of strength one that is unfaltering and steady in its purpose. He allows it to consume him, take him until he’s completely within the arms of the dream and he can push back the fears of his nightmare. He sleeps quietly the rest of the night.

When he finally wakes, he comes to consciousness in a series of phases where he recalls the nightmare, but knows it was just that – a dream and not reality. Next comes the feeling of comfort and solace wrapped around him. He blinks his eyes and looks down to see hands interlaced around his torso. He startles, but a voice stops him.

“Shush, I’m here,” Steve whispers.

“Crazy, how did you get here?” Tony turns over in Steve’s arms and watches as he unfurls from slumber’s folds. 

“Had Hawkeye drop me off last night. You were already sleeping, didn’t want to wake you,” Steve says. “Because I know you probably didn’t sleep at all, or eat.”

“I did eat, yes, I remember specifically eating because I thought you might like to hear that I can eat when people aren’t around to remind me.” Tony says and feels the warmth around him, Steve’s bare chest, their legs tangled together.

“Nice to hear,” Steve says as he nuzzles Tony’s neck. 

He feels the tightness in his groin that’s teased him all week grow. “God, I want you.” He turns his head to expose his neck for Steve.

“You have me,” Steve says and continues to kiss and suck a line along Tony’s throat and shoulder.

He could do this now and wait for the rest, but he’s never been a patient man when it comes to something he’s created. He’s always liked to show it off, and display it, thus the reason why he could never keep Iron Man as a secret identity.

He holds Steve’s head in his hands for a moment and then says, “I have something, something special for us. Do you want to just take it slow and easy or would you like to play a bit?”

Steve searches his eyes and, while Tony recognizes the fragmented shell Steve has come back as, he also sees that Steve’s silent consideration of the offer is actually a question.

“I can take you apart, Steve, I can rip this stress from you, whatever it is.” Tony places his hand on Steve’s heart. “I can make the anxiety go away for a little while.” He isn’t sure if he’s talking to Steve or to himself.

“Do it,” Steve says without hesitation. 

Tony jumps up and tells Steve to strip, go to the bathroom, and get ready. Tony does the same he has a few preparations to do and he’s a little nervous about the whole thing. He does go to the kitchen and pulls out a few bottles of water and some food including grapes and strawberries and apples. He grabs a bag of Cheetos too since Steve can’t seem to get enough of those neon orange food like snacks.

When he returns to the room, Steve sits on the lounger but there’s tension in his shoulders. Tony deposits all the food items on the bureau and asks, “Do you need to eat?”

“Not right away.”

“Good, I have to prep myself, so stay here but get on the floor we’re going to have to discuss a few things when I return,” Tony instructs. 

Steve nods and slips to the floor. He kneels and waits.

Tony’s heart dances in his chest like it’s been locked in a vault all the time Steve’s been gone. His prick is so hard he curses himself for not jerking off a few times. It is going to be difficult not to blow his load immediately. He giggles, and he sounds a little insane. He’s prepared for that.

It takes him some time to prep himself. He slicks up fingers and opens himself as much as he can, then slides in the butt plug he’s fashioned. He also has his very own cock ring and, while it doesn’t have a harness, it will help him with his little horny problem a bit. 

When he returns to the bedroom, his dick stands up against his belly and plug securely in place, Steve looks up at him with dilated eyes and the full body roll overcomes him. Steve allows it to torment his body and splashes of pre-come drip down his erection. 

Tony has all of the items for Steve within arm’s reach when he kneels in front of him and says, “We have to talk about a few things before we start.”

“Okay,” Steve says but cannot manage anything more.

“I want to use the cock ring and harness, along with a butt plug like I have in right now.”

“Butt plug?” 

“Yeah, yours will be larger though than mine,” Tony says. “Do you think that’s okay?”

Steve says, “Yes, I don’t really see a problem with it. You’ve had your dick in me so a plug shouldn’t be a big deal.”

Tony chuckles, “No, it shouldn’t, but it might if I would like to put my dick in there at the same time?”

Steve groans and his eyes flutter closed. He sways forward at the thought of what Tony’s proposed. 

“Steve?”

“Yes, please, damn it. Yes.”

“Okay then,” Tony says and places a hand on Steve’s shoulder and strokes him in a gentle caress. “Stay with me, babe.” Steve makes a little moaning sound that reminds Tony of a half cry. “Okay?”

“Hmm,” Steve says and nods.

“I also have this,” Tony says and picks up the remote control. He points it at the ceiling. The panels open and a hook descends from it. He inhales deeply and pulls out the cuffs with the long chain they’ve played with before. “I want to suspend you from the hook. Would you do that?” Tony hadn’t realized how nervous he is about this before but his hands are shaking.

Steve glances up at it and says in a hoarse whisper. “Yes.”

“I’m going to whip you,” Tony confesses.

Steve closes his eyes and a single tear leaks out. “Yes, please.”

Tony cups Steve’s jaw and says, “Babe, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He wipes the tear away.

“I want to, God, I want you to rip everything apart, I want you to decimate me, make me forget everything.” Steve leans toward him and Tony grips him to keep him upright.

“Anything for you, babe,” Tony says and rubs Steve’s bare back up and down. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says in a whisper. 

“You want to start now, or do you want me to just jerk you off?” Tony reaches down and strokes Steve a few times until he’s rigid trying to control his orgasm.

“Do you want me to come?” Steve asks.

“Will it help you get through this?” Tony asks, and he pulls languidly at Steve’s cock.

“Yes,” Steve hisses through his teeth. 

Tony releases him and pushes him back. “Get on your hands and knees, please.”

“I want to see you,” Steve says.

“Not this time,” Tony pressures him again with a tender hand to his shoulder. Steve follows the command and waits as Tony curves his hand over his perfect ass. “Jesus, you’re beautiful. This is going to get intense, Steve, can you tell me your safe word?”

“Parlor,” he replies a little strangulated.

Tony grabs the lube and pours it over his fingers. He peers at Steve’s pucker, blows on it, and then slides a finger in. Steve grunts a bit, he’s tight as if he’s never done this before – which is one of the wonders of the serum Tony supposes. He can feel his own butt plug and its discomfort in his ass but the clear burn of it excites him. With a little encouragement he has two fingers in and says, “I’m going to slip in the butt plug. It’s larger than my fingers. If you need to come when I put it in, go ahead.”

Steve doesn’t respond. Tony prepares the plug and knows he should further prep Steve, but he’s impatient and wants to see the thick dong in Steve, wants to see him splayed out with it and coming on it. 

“Ready?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, just pushes the plug passed the tight ring and feels Steve tense. “Push down, babe, it will feel good, I promise.”

“So tight and stiff, hurts.”

“Too much?”

“No, more,” Steve says and angles toward Tony to emphasize his point. 

Tony pumps it into Steve, and it is a third of the way in when Steve starts grunting and moaning on it. His cock drips down all over the carpet. That’s one thing Tony didn’t think about, he’ll have to deal with that next time. Steve groans a bit and says, “More, just more, Tony.”

So he gives him more, a straight shot right to the prostate and Steve tenses, and arches back onto the plug while his cock shoots all over the floor. Before he’s half done, he’s already collapsing, falling to the side and Tony with him. 

“Babe, babe,” Tony whispers and kisses his shoulder as he spoons behind him. “What the hell? What happened you’re so bent out of shape?”

“Just do it again, Tony, I need to – I need you to do it more,” Steve says and crawls up onto his knees. His cock is hardening again and he’s panting, almost wheezing for breath. 

A question formulates in the back of Tony’s head, if he should even proceed. Are they prepared for this, can he do this when Steve is so upset. “You’re sure?”

“Please.” The single word says volumes and Tony interprets it as a need, a deep down aching need to connect to something that doesn’t force Steve into places where he has to lead and control everything.

“Christ, okay,” Tony says and picks up the cock ring and ball harness. “Let me get this on you, and then we’ll string you up. I’ll do a little impact play, you want that?” He asks as he kisses and touches Steve along his flank to his nipples. He laps at a nipple, twists the other. There’s come on Steve’s chest and he tastes it. It coils and twists in his groin and he’s pleased he has the ring on himself. He wants Steve so badly now. 

Steve lies out on his back, his arms already above his head, his legs open and waiting for Tony. He looks wanton and sexy as hell, but somehow also beaten and torn. Tony knows he not only has to take him apart but he needs to put him back together again. He bends over Steve and kisses him thoroughly, tries for the connection Steve needs. He devours his mouth, tasting and nipping as he does, slides down and marks his neck and chest, licks at his cock and lightly touches his lips to the head. Steve shivers and turns his face to the side. 

“Okay, babe, calm, calm,” Tony says and fastens the ring and harness on. He makes sure to cage his ball tightly because Steve won’t have another orgasm until Tony allows it now. Steve cries out with a moan that rips the air to shreds. “Okay?”

“Yes, yes, just hit me, do it.”

To help him as Tony sets up the suspension play, he slaps him hard across the face once. Steve’s head snaps back and he trembles with it. He’s body curls and arches as if he’s trying to fight the harness. Tony very rarely hit Steve in the face, but if he wants to settle Steve, bring him to the here and now and have whatever demons are chasing him disappear, he needs to startle him.

“Shush, babe,” Tony says and cups his own dick to makes sure he’s not going to come despite the ring. 

He grabs the remote and lowers the hook, and then links the cuffs. He asks Steve to stand. He’s a little wobbly already, and Tony kisses each wrist before he cuffs them. With the remote he can then raise it until Steve is just barely on his feet. He’ll be able to remain on the floor, but he’ll not be able to use it as a brace against the swings. Before they start, Tony retrieves a water bottle, opens it, and brings it to Steve’s lips. He drinks greedily. When Tony pulls away, he nods and closes his eyes.

“Okay,” Tony says and swallows down his desire, his excitement. Steve looks like a god, caged and magnificent. “Safe word.”

“Parlor,” Steve snaps out, with his eyes open now. He looks fierce and determined, as if daring Tony to break him. 

“You want it?”

“Yes, try.” A challenge, Steve never challenges him. 

He’ll take the challenge. He picks up the whip, a small soft leather thing, and swings back, he waits, and then as he sees the very light intake of breath he lashes out. He hits Steve on the cock and then follows it with a swing to his nipples. 

“Harder, God, harder,” Steve growls and flexes his hands.

“Damn it,” Tony says and knows it might not be enough. He slashes at Steve and hits him hard several times on the cock but Steve still curls up his legs and can protect himself. His strength allows him to hang from the chains. Tony’s especially happy he re-enforced the beams. “Okay then, we do this my way.”

Tony retrieves the spreader bar and hooks it to Steve’s ankles. They’ve never used it before, but Steve knows about it. Tony then anchors it to the floor, a little extra he added with his renovations. He has to peel up the carpet to pull up the locking mechanism, but it works and will do for now. 

“All right?”

“Yes,” Steve nods and looks away. His hands are in tight fists now. 

Tony begins again; his swings are timed and careful but also vicious in their intent. Steve’s flesh reddens and purples under his touch. As he swings, Tony recalls the images in his nightmare, seeing the blood and the red and the ashes of New York. He wants them to fade away and dissipate. He wants to be able to control them, control the fear and the pain of terror. This is his way to do it; this is the way he can forget.

He beats against Steve’s swollen cock, hits his ass several times right at the pucker where the large plug is secured. This causes several body rolls and Steve cries and moans until he’s begging Tony for more, for release, for another hit. 

“Another?”

“Please, more, please.” Small amounts of pre-come lather Steve’s tied erection and it glistens in the light.

Tony continues and it feels wrong but it feels so right. His dick drips and throbs a new pulse. He can barely contain himself and he has to touch Steve, he has to feel his flesh. So, he tosses away the whip and slaps him several times with an open hand against his cock. Steve throws his head back and his eyes roll in his head as he howls and shivers in his bonds. Tony scrambles for the remote and hits the buttons, the mechanism releases and lowers Steve until Tony can get him to bend over at the waist and lean against the lounger. As it drops Steve, Tony frees him from the spreader.

“There, stay there,” Tony says and pulls the stool over from the chair. He tucks it under Steve’s knees. “Kneel.”

Steve drops with an audible whine. 

Tony looks at Steve’s abused ass; it shines red in the light. He pets the pucker with the black plug hanging out of it. Taking the lube, he slicks up his dick again. He wets his thumbs as well. He says. “Hold onto the lounger.”

Steve follows directions, but doesn’t turn back to see what Tony might be doing.

Tony grabs his ass and spreads it, and then slides both thumbs in against the plug. Steve sounds a muffled roar at the feel of it. Tony’s dick thuds with the insane rhythm of his heart. He eases his thumbs in and out a few times, and then adds in an index finger. Steve starts to rock against Tony, his whole body juddering against him. 

“Here, here we go, babe,” Tony says and positions his dick against the pucker. He pushes in against the plug and Steve moans out a sob. He thrusts in further. It is so fucking tight he gulps like he’s being strangled. “So, tight, babe, so fucking tight.” 

The motion is harsh and burns, so Tony lies against Steve’s sweat slick back and shudders as his dick pulses with the feeling. Steve hasn’t said anything just soft groaning noises that border on guttural whines. The sound pierces down into Tony’s groin and roils until his balls clench. He seizes the root of his dick and squeezes until he sees stars. He doesn’t want to shoot his load so quickly, he wants to wear Steve out, wear Steve down. 

“Tell me, Steve.”

At first, Steve can say nothing, but noises bordering on weeping until finally he forces out the words. “So full, so much. It feels like too much.”

“Too much?”

“Full, just so full, more, Tony, more.”

“I’m gonna fuck you into tomorrow,” Tony mutters and shoves hard against Steve.

He screams and trembles but doesn’t say anything else. He pushes back against Tony and this only sends Tony into a spiral of desire so hot, so wet he’s dizzy with it. 

“Not yet,” Tony snarls. He pulls out and drags the plug with him. Steve rasps and pants, his head hangs down and Tony can see the glisten of saliva drool from his lips. He rushes over and grasps Steve’s hair and tugs it. “On the bed, get on the bed.”

Steve staggers to stand, but when he reaches out to Tony for something to lean on, somehow, someway Tony backs away. He’s so broken in front of Tony. Steve, Captain America, so utterly in pieces. He fights to get to the bed on his own and drops. There’s something shattering about it, to see Steve, to see Captain America broken and ripped apart. His heart chokes Tony with its hard beats and he shivers at the sight. He’s not sure he likes it. He’s not sure he does.

Steve is wrecked, damaged. Tony is ruined. How the hell is he supposed to fix this, how the hell is he supposed to take this on his shoulders and fix it. He’s not Atlas, Captain Fucking America is Atlas, not Tony Stark. He’s not meant to have to lie down on the damned wire. He doesn’t want to do it anymore, not ever. It terrifies him.

When he sees Steve lying on the bed, legs spread and wait, something changes, something is different. He grabs the bonds and hooks them up to the headboard with brutal efficiency. He yanks off the ring off of his own dick and his own plug. He doesn’t even know what the hell he should do next. How is he supposed to fix Steve? His original plan withers and dies. He is at a loss.

“Please, Tony, please,” Steve murmurs as he prepares. Tears streak over his face and Tony doesn’t know what the fuck to do. Steve opens his legs and begs again. “Please.”

His dick is hot and needy and so he follows it. He doesn’t know what the fuck to do but to thrust back and shove as far and as hard as he can. It isn’t enough; Steve is so open now from his dick and the plug, he can’t get enough friction, enough burn. Tony eases out and crawls up Steve. Without a word of warning, he grabs Steve’s cock, lubes it, positions it, and sits down until it’s fully in him. Steve yells out and fists his hands. His head bends back and his throat is an exposed, pulsing artery. Tony reaches up and pumps as he grasps Steve around the neck. He holds his hand there, waiting to see what Steve might do. He’s only moaning and following Tony’s lead as he pushes and grinds against him. 

Words pour out of his mouth as he plunges again and again. “I’m gonna hit you so hard, you won’t know. You won’t see again.” His hand around Steve’s throat tightens, grips and tightens. He feels the pressure points, the fluttering of life beneath him. He grinds again and says, “Fucking, fucking.”

Steve cries and begs for release. He still has the ring on and the harness. “Tony, too much, please.” But his words are garbled and strained from the lack of air. “It’s too much.”

“No, no,” Tony says and he wants to tell Steve he loves him. He wants to make Steve understand he can’t just be this, they have to be more. He shoves Steve in until he can feel the cock ring at his pucker’s muscle and it burns. He hurts. “This all you want, you fucking whore.”

Steve’s eyes are bright and wide as Tony yells at him, as Tony’s hand around his throat grips harder. He can feel the life in Steve. Steve’s life in his hands, he cannot deal with that, he can’t save people, he’s not a fucking hero, Steve is. Tony is a fucking whore, a playboy, and nothing more. He can’t be a hero; he can’t be anyone’s hero.

Steve mouths something, but he’s not sure what it is. 

“I can’t fucking take it,” Tony says as he smashes onto Steve again, as he constricts his hand. “I can’t be this for you, you slut. This isn’t it.” He can feel the strain of Steve as he works to breathe, as he murmurs words Tony is deaf to. Steve’s cock hits hard inside, and Tony comes in a great wave of pain and it hurts. The come spurts out in long ribbons against Steve’s chest and hits him in the face. It isn’t what Tony wanted; it isn’t anything that he planned. It is empty and hollowed out. It isn’t love or anything like it. It just hurts, slices his heart out and leaves him bare and wanting. When he comes down he finally hears Steve’s words.

“Parlor, parlor,” Steve is crying and pleading with Tony. “Parlor.”

In seconds, he’s back to himself and he’s horrified.

Jesus Christ.

He pulls off of Steve. When he reaches to help Steve, there’s nothing he can do because Steve rips the bonds off, he literally cracks the headboard and twists the metal around his wrists until he’s free of it. He’s hands go to his cock next and free it even as Tony tries to help. Steve only growls at him. As he releases his cock, he tumbles to the floor as his climax overwhelms him and he cries out. 

“Let me,” Tony says. “God damn it, Steve, let me.” He gets the harness off as well. This throws Steve into a full climax. It looks anything else but pleasurable. It looks like he’s been hurt and tortured in some subtle way.

When it ends, and it takes a while for the tremors to leave him, Steve curls in a ball on the floor and covers his face with his hands. Tony sits to the side, not knowing what to do, but knowing that everything is wrong. Eventually, Steve calms and, when Tony reaches across to touch him, he shies away.

Tony has no words; he’s violated a cardinal rule of their play. He didn’t listen; he lost himself to the chaos in his head. He let his fear rule and he didn’t control it. This has always been about Steve’s need for loss of control and Tony’s need to learn control – now it’s broken down and he doesn’t know if he can salvage it.

Steve sits up with his back to the bed, his head against the mattress. Without looking at Tony he says, “You promised you’d never do that.”

For seconds, Tony isn’t sure what he’s referring to – he never wanted Steve to use his safe word. He knows he should rectify the situation, take care of Steve, talk it over, and show him the utmost care and tender love. He feels feeble and frail in his role.

“You promised, you’d never call me those names,” Steve says.

“Names?” Tony rushes back in his memory, trying to figure it out. Names? He called Steve names? He hears in his head – whore, slut – things he vowed he’d never say to Steve, because he never liked them when people threw them at him in the public. It degrades and humiliates. To him, it just stabs and hurts. “I didn’t-.”

Steve glares at him. “You did, you called me names. You made me feel ashamed of myself,” Steve says. His eyes are pits of despair. This isn’t how this is supposed to play out. Tony knows that and he scrambles to try and find a way to fix it. 

“I know, I – it ran away from me – I don’t-.”

“It ran away from you? Is that what you really think of me?” Steve asks and his expression turns into one of anguish. The marks on his neck and chest are brilliant and sore against his pale flesh. “I said my safe word, Tony, you ignored it. You kept going.”

He’s not sure what to say, he doesn’t have a hand book open now and he needs the information. Instead, he tries his best to confess the haunting images that have plagued him while Steve was gone. “I just – I got lost in memories. I couldn’t shake.” He’s not sure he can do this with Steve as long as the memories, the nightmares are such a force. Maybe they can have a different relationship, put the play away for a while and just love one another. He cannot see Captain America stripped down and vulnerable when everything in his world caves in. 

“I’m not sure I want this-.”

Steve stares at him and there’s hurt in his eyes. “You don’t want this?”

“Not this,” Tony says and wants to say _I love you, I want you. I need you to be just my lover for now and not my playmate. Just for a while._ None of it comes out. He’s too frightened of what he’s done, and what he could possibly do to Steve. Steve is too trusting and would allow it, even though he could prevent it with his brute strength alone. 

Steve isn’t looking at him, just gazing straight ahead to the middle distance – he’s not seeing this place, this here and now – he’s lost in his own memories. After a few moments, he blinks and comes back to himself, he nods and straightens his shoulders. “Okay, I understand.”

“But I-.”

Steve stands. “I get it, Tony. I understand.” Tony follows him to his feet. “I get that this world is fucked up, and that we’re right there in the middle of it. I get that what I experienced in my life is so far removed that no one around me understands it or my concerns.”

Tony doesn’t really understand what that has to do with anything but he suspects it zeroes down to the week and a half with the SHIELD and government officials Steve has just been through. 

“I understand that who I am is completely removed from everyone else. That it is like being from a foreign land or an alien culture.” He turns to the lounger where his clothes are neatly piled. He picks up his boxers and slips them on. There are marks and bruises all over his body from their play. “I thought you understood – I thought you got it.”

“I do,” Tony says and wants to say more but the words get all jumbled in his throat.

“What exactly do you get? That Captain America is a whore or a slut, Tony? A plaything for the playboy?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” 

“What are you saying?” Steve looks vicious like a predator about to pounce on prey. “Because you just ignored my safe word, you just called me names, choked me without asking me, and told me you didn’t want this. So tell me, Mister Playboy, what is it that you wanted from me?”

He wants to say – more. H wants to say how much he loves Steve. He wants to explain to Steve that he can’t do this unless he gets his own head on straight. He wants to make Steve understand that he loves him and that he wants to build him up – just like Steve wants and needs – but he can’t – because Tony’s ruined. He’s wrecked and he needs Steve to fix him before he can help Steve.

He only says, “I don’t want this.” His shoulders slump as Steve finishes dressing. His body is covered in come and sweat, but he ignores it as he pulls his shirt on and his pants. 

When Steve reaches the door, he turns and says, “For what it’s worth, I do love you.”

It is too late for Tony to tell Steve to come back, to always come back. Tony looks up at Steve and says, “I love you, too.”

It is the last thing Tony says to Steve. It is the last time Tony sees Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think of this chapter. Also, I want you to give me a little leeway here and trust me. There will not be anymore chapters in the past - this was the last one. Let's wish Tony and Steve good luck because they only have two chapters to get this straightened out!
> 
> Thanks for reading. Crossing fingers you want to keep reading.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present day - Tony searches for Steve but finds out he's not the only one looking for him. The race is on to find Steve - but who or what is chasing him and will Tony get there on time?
> 
> _He blasts his free repulsor at the hole just to make sure it is wide enough and lifts off as the bullets and jolts of blue arcs follow them. He hears several ping off of the shield and JARVIS informs him of the number hitting the suit. Too many for his liking and he knows, just knows down deep in his gut that there cannot be any way the captain escaped without a bullet hole or two, even with the shield._

**Present Day**  
Once Pepper leaves and he finds himself alone, Tony doesn’t react. He sits and waits. He becomes a stone; he becomes a statue of marble. He cannot be reactive, he must be proactive. He has to make decisions, he must plan. He shouldn’t just plunge headlong into the waters, the raging river of possibilities. He doesn’t want to sink under the weight of his options. He studies the possibilities, thinks it over. He examines every angle and course of action. 

When the call comes in Tony is anything but ready. He’s mid-way through his analysis of the last year. He turns over his actions and reactions, he investigates what the other Avengers were up to during the time his house blew up (Natasha and Barton were out of the country as far as he knows, Thor wasn’t Earthside, Bruce had disappeared on a month long sojourn to meditate out in the middle of butt fuck nowhere country, and Steve- well Steve was the big question). He had been in the country – he’d actually contacted JARVIS. He attempted to call Pepper and express his condolences. Yet, from what Tony can understand, Steve found his own kind of danger; Steve had been in the middle of a very private war within SHIELD. 

Before the call – the call that changes everything – Tony concludes he needs to rectify situations. He feels a little like a recovering alcoholic on the 12 step program from AA. He calls up Pepper.

 

The room is dark and he’s glad of it, the shades of the past follow him here, stand over him like sentinels in the shadows and remind him not to succumb to the weaknesses always lurking on the edge of his life. 

“Tony.” Her voice is small and soft, almost tender in its aspect.

“I wanted to talk,” Tony says and he won’t have the witty banter, not this time. He recalls the times he called her when he’d first started things with Steve, how she’d been his rock and he hadn’t even know he’d been leaning on her for support. 

Instead of an exhausted sigh, she surprises him. “Then talk.”

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I wanted to tell you that I do love you.” He can see her smile when she laughs. He’s not using his StarkPhone so he has to imagine it. The laugh holds no malice, but gently rings in the air. “You’ve always been there for me.”

“I’ve tried.”

“You take good care of me,” he whispers, and his heart aches in small snatches of pain like someone prickles it with pins.

“I always try, Tony.” He knows she’s not crying but her voice sounds torn and he knows he put the hurt there.

“I love you,” he says. “I always will love you, but-.”

“But you’re not the person for me and I’m not the person for you,” she finishes for him and the dark around him wraps him in its cloak and he’s glad of it, appreciates that it hides his sorrow, his tears. 

“No,” Tony says. “You’re not. I love you, but you’re not.”

“Because you are Iron Man,” she says. The melancholy touches her, and he hears it in every sigh, every syllable. 

“Yes.”

“I’m proud of you, Tony, you know that, right?” she replies. “If anything, you are a good man.”

He scoffs. “I’m not, but thank you for thinking that.”

“I wish-.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just take care of yourself, Tony. I don’t want to hear that you’ve been hurt,” she says. 

“I’ll take care,” he promises.

“I’ll always be here for you,” Pepper adds. “You never have to be alone. You’re my family. You know that right?”

“I do,” Tony says. “You’re my family. And Pepper?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, always.”

“I know,” Pepper says in a soft hush. “Now, Tony use that genius brain of yours and find him, again. He’s who you need.”

He cracks up a little, and notices tears stain his face. “You are the genius.”

“With twelve percent?” she snaps back. “Take care, Tony.”

“You, too.”

He disconnects and remains in the dark for the next hour. He has no idea what to do or how to do it. He contemplated reprogramming JARVIS to remove the permissions he’d previous given Steve so he could find out what the hell Steve is up to. But he’d stopped when he considered it. If he does something like that, he’ll violate Steve’s privacy. It is obvious Steve trusted him to leave the commands in place and to not tinker with JARVIS’ programming to find Steve. Steve has not contacted him since that disastrous day so long ago. Tony did try to communicate with Steve– at first – but Steve had remained closed off and unattainable. 

Times have changed, Tony has changed. Deciding on a more direct path, he queries JARVIS about his interactions with Steve. There’s a small part of him that hopes Steve didn’t completely cut everything off, that Steve might have allowed a certain wiggle room for JARVIS to give some information to Tony. He asks some simple questions.

“Captain Rogers called several times after the Malibu incident. He called Ms. Potts once to express his condolences but she was unavailable at the time.”

“Express condolences?” Tony says and then it hits him. Steve, like the rest of the world, thought he had died when Killian attacked his house in Malibu. “Do you have a recording of that call?”

“Yes, sir.”

After a pause, the recording starts. “Ms. Potts, Steve Rogers, ma’am. I just- wanted.” He stops and a strangulated choke sounds on the line. A breathy sigh follows it. “I wanted to express my condolences. Mister Stark, Tony, was a good man, a hero in my book.” The line goes dead. 

Tony balances the weight of the darkness, the pain against the words of the call. “Is there a follow up call?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Play it?”

There’s no pause this time. “JARVIS, I need you to give me an update on Tony’s status.”

“Did you?” Tony asks.

“No, sir. I have been programmed by you not to answer questions of this type without your express permission.”

“But Steve found out I survived Malibu fairly quickly?” Tony asks.

“As quickly as the rest of the world, sir.”

Damn it to hell. He thinks of the hell Steve must have gone through. At least, he’d been smart enough to call and relieve Pepper of the burden of grief. The damage he’s done to Steve is immeasurable and he cannot even think about how to fix it. In many ways it paralyzes him. So when the call comes in, he’s relieved to take it.

“Stark?”

“Natasha?” Tony says and something in him tenses. He hasn’t spoken to her since she revealed there might be a force seeking Steve for reasons that might be fatal.

“We have a problem,” Natasha says and her voice fades in and out. The connection crackles and sizzles.

“JARVIS try and clean that up. What’s the signal to noise ratio? Get the damper up and boost the signal if possible,” Tony instructs. 

“What is it, Tasha, can you speak?”

When she replies, the connection isn’t much better but he can read the tension in her voice. “SHIELD intercepted or found or I can’t really tell where the information came from. Just that it is.”

“What information? About Steve?” 

“Yes, it looks like there’s an ambush planned,” Natasha replies. “And SHIELD is not attempting to stop it. I can’t find out why, I’m not in the vicinity. I can’t find out if they are responsible for it or if it is something else entirely.”

“How about Clint?”

“No, not available,” Natasha says. “Tell me you have a suit, Stark, tell me you can suit up and get to him before whoever they are take him out. SHIELD – I don’t know what’s going on within the hierarchy.”

“But you think he’s already in danger?” Tony asks.

“Absolutely, SHIELD will not listen. There’s something going on, I’m not sure. Fury is after them but I’m not getting a good read from where I am on what is going on under the surface,” Natasha says.

“They could be listening in now,” Tony replies.

“I could give a crap,” Natasha snaps. “Just tell me you have a damned suit, Stark, because Steve can’t do this alone. What’s going down isn’t good.”

“Do you have a location?”

“Nothing confirmed. Did you find out who’s been helping him that could be a good source?” 

“Okay, give me any coordinates you have and I will cross reference it with my source,” Tony says. “And Natasha, can you get there if I find out exact locations?”

“Possibly,” Natasha says. “Just let us finish up with what we’re doing now and we will get there ASAP.”

“Thanks,” Tony says. The line goes dead and Tony stands up. “JARVIS.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You listened?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me where Steve is.”

“I do not know his exact location, sir. I can only tell you his last location.”

“Download it and let’s rock and roll.”

He walks over to the rings and allows the modified Mark VI suit to be wrapped about him. It still has dents and looks like hell, but it’ll do in a pinch – even if it does pinch him now and again. 

Tony stands on the balcony of Stark Tower, looking out at New York. The city gleams in the broadening light of dawn. Bright reflections turn the city into crystalline light. To look at her, he would be hard pressed to tell the ravages of an alien battle scarring her surface. The city – he can understand her willingness to go on, her need to continue, and her need to overcome whatever violence and nightmares thrown at her. He steadies himself, he hasn’t flown in a while, and this commits him to a course of action. 

“Let’s do this,” Tony says and launches into the air. 

Tony examines the HUD and cross references the information streaming in from Natasha. He compiles the data. It looks fairly obvious where the good captain is, but it makes no sense at all. It is the end of February now, and he tries not to think of how last year at this time, he had Steve in his arms and their whole future in the palms of his hands. He'd ruined everything by allowing his fears to get the best of him; he destroyed a life he could have had. He corrected some of it and he hopes that what he’s left in his path with Happy and Pepper will result in something good and lasting for them. Yet, he still has a broken relationship with Steve to attend. He intends to fix it. He intends to win Steve back, but right now he has to ensure Steve will actually survive. 

"JARVIS, give me some details, why the hell are we flying out to the Black Hills in South Dakota?"

"The Black Hills contain a decommissioned SHIELD underground facility. While it no longer acts as a potential command station, it is used by SHIELD to store equipment and does contain classified information on servers housed there."

Tony rolls his eyes. "And you know this how?"

"The Black Widow has confirmed what information had been gathered while integrating through the SHIELD systems on the Helicarrier before the Chitauri attack."

"Why JARVIS you've been holding out on me," Tony says as he banks toward the designated flight plan. "You've know about this for how long and you're just telling me now?"

"Consider it a birthday present, sir."

"My birthday isn't until May, JARVIS," Tony returns.

"An early one, sir," JARVIS replies and they continue their voyage through the air. 

"We are going to the Black Hills in South Dakota, aren't we?" Tony asks. "Really not interested in playing alien tonal music at Devil's Tower in Wyoming." 

"Yes, sir, the location is well within South Dakota borders," JARVIS answers.

"ETA?"

"43 minutes, sir."

"Can you give me a read on Steve's location?"

"I cannot sir."

"You can't or you won't."

"Both, sir."

Tony grumbles and frowns. He should really considering dialing down the snark level in JARVIS. He should also consider whether or not the autonomy he's seeing in JARVIS is a good thing or a bad thing. He likes the idea of his creation becoming more self-aware and growing in its comprehension of the world and events, but he wonders what consequences might result. He shelves that for later and concentrates on his current dilemma.

"Okay, give me probable locations based on information from Natasha and your last known coordinates for Steve." 

"The SHIELD base contains sealed information- that is the servers are not linked to any other servers in the world and the only way to access them is by physically being in the same room."

"Off grid network?"

"Yes, sir."

"What the hell would Steve need to do with that and how the hell is he planning on accessing it other than with brute force?" 

"It is not within my programming to answer that question," JARVIS replies.

"Give me more to my thrusters, you double crosser," Tony says and feels the push and force as his velocity picks up.

"You wound me, sir," JARVIS says and waits. "Sir, you could override all commands with your master command. You do know that I cannot go against my programming unless you use the master command?"

It has always been a failsafe, a backdoor, just in case someone hacked into his artificial intelligence. It has been a way for Tony to always take command of JARVIS regardless of who might be able to invade the A.I. Tony has never accessed or invoked the code.

"I know that JARVIS," he says.

"Would you like to invoke it now, sir?"

"I'm trying to respect Steve's privacy and your autonomy," Tony says and continues his read of the display.

"Sir," JARVIS says and stops as if part of his programming isn't allowing him to continue.

"JARVIS?"

"Sir, the master command is at your disposal," JARVIS urges again.

Tony tilts his head and raises a brow. "JARVIS? Are you in danger?"

If they are actually going after SHIELD, or some rogue part of SHIELD and there is even the slightest possibility that his conversation with Natasha had been overheard, then JARVIS, Tony, and Steve are in grave danger. He orders, "Give me a stream line of your operational commands and configurations." 

He reviews all that he can in the limited space permitted by the HUD. JARVIS' code looks clean. Of course that could be easily handled if there is a hacker so he tries another tactic, something that JARVIS doesn't know about. "JARVIS, code zero zero two."

The screen flickers and the entire thing goes dark for one paralyzing second, then it lights up again and code runs across the HUD in long columns. He knows what he's looking for, he isn't stupid. He knows to hide things within the code that he would be the only one to check and see. It all looks fine, it looks good. 

"Close and store." The code disappears from his HUD and he checks his time of arrival. JARVIS is trying to tell him something without being able to due to his programming. Whatever Steve commanded of JARVIS it has become a problem for all of them. "Bring us into South Dakota, I'll assess and decide then."

"Your wish, sir, is my command."

This doesn't sound snarky at all, more like a plea to Tony's ears but hell he has no idea what the hell is going on here. "Understood." He angles his flight and checks the time. Only twenty seven minutes to go. 

It ends up being the longest twenty seven minutes of his life. When they are ten minutes out Tony is physically sweating with it dripping down his face into his eyes. It has nothing to do with endurance and the long flight but everything to do with anxiety over the fear JARVIS has expressed (but not). He knows something is up and, if JARVIS' code is fine, it can only mean one thing. Steve is in trouble and JARVIS knows it.

"JARVIS, is Steve in physical danger right now?"

There is a pause as if JARVIS is weighing whether or not he can answer the question. "Sir, Captain Rogers is not in immediate physical danger."

"Any type of danger."

"No, sir, he is not in immediate danger."

Oh, Tony says and realizes JARVIS used the word immediate, twice. It can only mean one thing, that Steve is walking into danger and there isn't much time. The ambush - whether it be the nascent Hydra organization or something nefarious within SHIELD, it would happen today.

"Location of hostiles, JARVIS?" Technically he isn't asking JARVIS for Steve's location so this should be a work around the issue.

"No hostiles are immediately present."

There's that word again. He takes this under advisement and searches the area. "Give me a low down on the area, JARVIS."

"The complex is mainly underground. There isn't much tree growth around the area, but it is heavily fortified, even though it may look deserted."

"This you downloaded from your scavenging of the SHIELD database?"

"Happy early birthday, sir."

"Always taking care of me," Tony shakes his head and smiles. He has a little bit of a crush on his A.I.. He can understand Pepper's jealousy of JARVIS, though she always tried to hide it. He surveys the open landscape and notes no plowed roads. Although it is currently a clear day with no snow falling, the area has been hit recently. A fresh coating of snow covers even the tall pine trees. "How would someone get here that isn't flying in?"

"I do know that some will snowmobile in, sir." Suddenly a list of local places to rent snowmobiles appears on the HUD. One in particular blinks to show a rental of one this morning. 

Just as JARVIS mentions it, Tony spots the bladed trail of a single snowmobile. He swerves along the path and follows it. "Does Steve have the same access to the data you're giving me on SHIELD?"

"Sir, you permitted him unlimited access. The only thing that Captain Rogers does not specifically have is the master command."

Knowing that JARVIS would never tell him what Steve is looking for at this site, Tony takes another tactic. "What information can we gather here at this SHIELD site?"

"From what little was available on the internal servers on the Helicarrier regarding this site, sir, it is the central housing of internal threats to SHIELD and other government agencies."

Internal threats - interesting. "What other government agencies? All US?"

"That information is not available to me, sir."

"So SHIELD or someone must have let some information out to lure Steve here."

"Or one of the internal threats at SHIELD has done it, sir."

Tony lifts an eyebrow at that one. JARVIS is watching his back and Steve's he can tell. The trail of the snowmobile disappears in a grouping of trees and then Tony can just discriminate the footsteps of someone approaching the facility. If he'd been any farther away the outcropping would look natural, but this close up it is evident that the irregularities of the rock were not constructed by nature but by man. 

From his vantage point, he can see someone had crouched down and searched the rocks for entrance. 

"JARVIS, how do I get in?" Tony says and JARVIS instructs him to the exact spot the other person had entered. He has a sneaking suspicion he's not the only one to ask that question today. He lands on a patch of gravel and looks around at the rock formation. He expects guns or something to be pointed directly at him. Yet, nothing happens. The world around him is draped in the silence of the snow. He goes to the spot indicated by JARVIS and notes that someone knelt here and worked on the panel that is just hidden by the rocks.

He touches the pad and it blinks but nothing happens. "JARVIS, hook up and hack in." A long appendage extends from his gauntlet and inputs into place on the panel. In seconds the panel whines and the rock shifts. It isn't a rock at all but a hologram and it dissipates to allow him entrance. "Shit."

This might be a decommissioned command center for SHIELD, but it must hold some very classified, very important crap to warrant elaborate schemes of concealment. He enters the base and the hologram door materializes again along with a crack of something electrical like a shielding. The corridor is dark and he can see signs of a struggle. Several guards are knocked out cold. But what strikes him is the lack of any alarms sounding or lights flashing any warning at all. It feels like the entire place is deserted. 

Only three guards are lying unconscious at his feet. He knows instantly that there’s more to it than that – he knows this is a set up- a trap. 

“JARVIS, location of Steve, right now?”

“My programming does not permit me to answer your question, sir.” JARVIS sounds almost desperate, like he might plead with Tony to use the master command.

“Damn it to hell and back again,” Tony says and turns down the long dark corridor. It is so empty and still he wonders if anyone really is in the building at all. “Location of hostiles?”

“While it is difficult to use sensors and satellite access to this facility, sir, I have been able to discern a dozen hostiles converging onto a central area,” JARVIS reports with a relieved sound to the A.I.’s voice. 

Tony descends the steps which is always a joy in the suit and then asks, “ETA for the hostiles making the convergent point?”

“Estimated three minutes.”

“Direct me there,” Tony says and peers down two opposing corridors. 

“To your left, sir,” JARVIS says and adds, “Your estimated time of arrival will be three minutes and fifty two seconds, sir.”

“Shit,” Tony replies.

“Precisely, sir.”

Tony cringes, damn it why did he program JARVIS with an attitude. He studies the width and height of the corridor. It will be a tight fit but he really has no other choice. “Fire up my thrusters, JARVIS.”

“It will be considerably difficult to navigate the narrow hallways, sir, for proper flight.” 

“Well then we’ll consider it a challenge. I always like a challenge, don’t you JARVIS?” He lifts his hands and pushes downward, then immediately angles his feet backward as he lifts off the ground. Hell, he slammed himself into the walls of his workshop enough to know how to freaking fly through a hallway. It isn’t as easy as it seems. The walls rush up at him with frightening speed and, for one horrifying moment, he’s back in the tunnels in New York and a kind of swift panic comes over him. He bites it down. He knows how to handle this, he can handle it. He turns as JARVIS notes the route to the converging hostiles.

As he watches on his HUD, the blisters of light moving toward a central point, he can only liken it to the damned monitor in that _Aliens_ movie. Where they watch the aliens approach and the monitor says they’re in the room, but they aren’t – yet they are – they are in the ceiling. And that gives him an idea.

“JARVIS, can we get to a point underneath the central convergence point?”

“Yes, it might take one minute and three seconds longer.”

Can Steve hold them back? Is it possible? Only if he’s warned, Tony decides. “Connect me with Steve, JARVIS.”

“That is against my current programming and orders, sir.” 

He jets through the hallway and follows the route outlined on the HUD. “JARVIS, connect me with Steve, I need to warn him.”

“I am incapable of following your orders, sir.” JARVIS sounds panicked, something he never thought he’d hear in the A.I. or even think possible.

This leaves Tony no choice as they crash through the floor to get underneath the floor that Steve’s on, where the ambush will take place. “JARVIS?”

“Sir?”

“I’m sorry, invoke master command,” Tony commands. “Code 07041922.”

There’s a distinct whine and then a flash across the HUD as the master code command initiates. “Master command invoked.”

“Connect me with Steve now.”

“He is not on a comm link, sir. You may be able to link into the intercom for the facility. But I must warn you it will alert everyone to our presence as well.”

“Do it, they probably already know we’re here and don’t give a shit,” Tony says and that makes him wonder all the more. They are well and truly after Steve.

“You are connected, sir.”

“Steve? Steve? It’s a trap. Whatever you think you’re getting you aren’t. They laid the trap to ambush you. Hostiles on their way to you in forty four seconds. Take cover.”

He has to hope Steve hears him as he dodges around a corner and makes it to the place that he thinks is right underneath the place the hostiles are converging, Steve’s current location. He hears the distant crack of gun fire and aims his repulsor at the ceiling. Firing, he launches through the hole and sprays debris far and wide. It stuns the occupants of the room which looks a little like a command center. 

As he crashes into the party, Tony scans the room and counts a dozen soldiers in heavy equipment headed in the direction of the good Captain. Steve huddles behind a computer console with the screens a buzz with streams of data and information. He tilts his shield toward the massing front of assailants as they pepper him with not only a spray of bullets but some weird ass guns that are blasting what Tony can only describe as blue lightning. His entrance into the fray startles the entire room and then half the soldiers turn to wield their weapons on Tony. He's no idea what the hell kind of weapons they have or what they do. 

JARVIS raises the alarm by saying, "Large automatic assault rifles are tesseract enhanced, sir."

"Tesseract? I thought-." But he doesn't have the time or space to complete his statement because the whir and whine of the gun pointed at him forces him to either act or turn into smoke. He raises his repulsors and lets off a volley. Two of the soldiers crumple while a third and fourth aim and fire. Something heavy and solid knocks him in the chest and he falls - which is something considering he's in the Iron Man armor and nothing should be able to whip him down flat on his faceplate. There's a pressure on his back and a grip to his shoulder and suddenly he's up again, realizing Steve just tackled him and manhandled him in the suit. He has a newfound respect for the captain's strength. If he had the time, he might actually consider that fact with the events of last year, but he doesn't so he shoves it away for another time.

As he stands at the ready, back to back with Steve, he says, "Captain."

"Mister Stark," Steve returns and, somehow, even though it is one of the most formal addresses Steve could use it warms Tony because it recalls other times and places. It is okay.

"Shall we retreat?"

While four of the men are now down, there are still eight of them and some with those strange guns. Steve takes position so that he can cover the tesseract weapons with his shield. "I got what I came for."

"From the computer?"

"Yeah," Steve says but before Tony questions him he adds, "I had a little help, don't worry about it."

He wants to say he isn't worried but he immediately knows what's going on. "JARVIS, we are going to have a word or two."

"To quote the esteemed Buffy Summers, You can have a sentence, sir." A torrent of gun fire and bolts hit them and both of them dodge injury by hiding behind the shield and by using the desk furniture in the room. Steve starts pushing him toward a door, but Tony knows it will be blocked; they are bound to flank them. Steve would know this, he's strategist.

"Cocky, don't get cocky."

"And that would be Han Solo, sir."

He ignores the sass from his A.I. and, as another array of bolts crackle against Steve's shield, says, "We gotta get out of here."

"Up," Steve says but all the while moving them toward the obvious exit. 

The HUD instantly displays the ceiling and then the thickness of the structure of the underground facility, the earth above them. "I can't do it with my repulsors. It will have to be with a rocket launch."

Steve clears himself from Tony for a moment, then flings the shield, slamming it into two of the soldiers before it ricochets back to his waiting hands. He flinches almost imperceptibly when it connects with his bare skin and, for a moment, Tony is back in the cropping of trees on a cold winter's day learning how to throw the shield with Steve. He frowns and shakes free of the memory. Concentrating on the read out and letting the captain do his work, Tony aims missiles toward the ceiling. The first blast crashes through the false ceiling and the cement of the bunker. With another round earth, dirt, and rocks cascades down, not only freeing up a hole but for them to escape but giving them a moment's pause from attack. A shaft of sunlight beams through to the floor.

"It'll be cold, Captain." Tony slips his arm around Steve's waist and buckles him close to the armor. He only wishes he could feel the rigidity and curve of the captain's muscles, but he'll take this- the solidity of Steve next to him for the first time in months. 

As the dust and dirt clear, the soldiers attacking them realize they are not about to flee through the backdoor, and start to yell and shout out. The backdoor bursts open and a barrage of soldiers clamor through it. A hail of gunfire pelts the air and Tony doesn't take a minute, not a second as he says, "Hold on."

He blasts his free repulsor at the hole just to make sure it is wide enough and lifts off as the bullets and jolts of blue arcs follow them. He hears several ping off of the shield and JARVIS informs him of the number hitting the suit. Too many for his liking and he knows, just knows down deep in his gut that there cannot be any way the captain escaped without a bullet hole or two, even with the shield. 

"JARVIS, give me a read on the Captain."

"Captain Rogers has suffered several bullet wounds to the shoulder and thigh."

"Which shoulder and thigh and how many is several?" Tony says as they clear the underground tunnel he fashioned and launch free into the open space above the winterscape. 

"There are two bullet wounds to the Captain's right shoulder and one to the same thigh. He received them when we took flight," JARVIS answers. 

Deciding to go directly to the source, Tony asks, "Steve?"

"I'm fine, just get us out of here," Steve says but his words are clipped and tight. 

"JARVIS, tell me you were able to update Natasha?"

"I did, sir, but she is at least twenty minutes out. Should I coordinate a rendezvous point?"

"Yes, and closer and warmer is better," Tony adds. He adjusts his hold on Steve and angles out to the flight pattern. He isn't sure where JARVIS planted their coordinates, but he trusts him even though he still needs to have a sit down with his own A.I. He turns his attention back to Steve and finds it difficult to say anything. Tony has always been a man of action and his words - well his words are a practiced jargon filled with braggart and arrogance. He cannot rely on any of that. "Steve, I- I wa-."

"Tony, not now." Steve puts his face downward and yanks the shield to protect his skin from the open sheer of the wind. 

"Okay, okay, but soon?" Tony feels a lump where his heart sits, hard and throbbing in his chest.

"Soon, let's just get out of here."

It takes a full three hours to get them to a safe haven. They meet up with Natasha who not only brought Clint along but somehow scavenged Bruce as well. Bruce only shrugs and says he'd come back into the country after the whole Malibu thing, thinking he was going to have to go to a funeral and smash someone. Tony's happy to have him on board especially when Steve leans against one of the seats in the Quinjet and winces. His shoulder is a mass of blood as well as his thigh. Tony hasn't approached him though he has the faceplate lifted and cannot take his eyes off of Steve. He looks good, well, except for the smears of blood all over the place. He's tan as if he's been out in the sun a lot, must have been spending time in the south. He also has a clear stubble on his face as if he hasn't shaved in two or three days - very unCaptain America. His hair is shorter then Tony remembers, but his eyes, his eyes capture Tony's and he finds his face heating.

He swallows and says to Bruce, "Can you take a look? He took a few shots."

Steve doesn't argue just rests his head back and closes his eyes as Bruce peels away the torn khaki pants. "Doesn't look like it hit bone, but it is deep."

"You need to fish it out," Steve says. "Before it closes up entirely."

"How about the ones to the shoulder?" Tony points out.

"One was a clean shot through and through, the other just glancing," Steve says through clenched teeth as Bruce pokes around at his thigh. Before Tony knows what Steve's up to, he digs out a pocket knife, flips it out, and hands it to Bruce. "Just dig it out."

"Hey, hey, hey," Tony says and stops Bruce. "A little unsanitary don't you think?"

Both Steve and Bruce glare at him. "Serum will take care of the infection, Tony."

Steve adds, "I'd rather get it out now before things heal up." He nods to Bruce and pushes his head back and closes his eyes, preparing.

Tony looks helplessly from the cockpit where Natasha and Clint pilot the jet then back at Steve. He retracts the gloves and gauntlets on his suit and steps over to Steve's side. Though he doesn't know if he's welcome, he murmurs, "Hey."

Steve opens his eyes and looks up at Tony. There's the lightest sheen of perspiration on his forehead, on his upper lip, and a bit of wetness on his long lashes. Tony thinks it might be tears but he's not sure. He offers his hand to Steve, waiting and hoping. After only a moment's hesitation, Steve grasps it and nods to Bruce. "I'm ready."

Tony turns his head away, doesn't watch. Instead, he focuses on Steve - watches as he clenches down and the tendons in his throat and muscles in his jaw twitch at the invasion of the blade. Only the slightest grunt issues from Steve and he hitches his breath and pulls Tony's hand closer to his face. He averts his head and presses his face against their clasped hands. Tony feels the warmth of air as Steve breathes, feels the slight tremor in his muscles as he shivers from Bruce's work. With his empty hand, Tony reaches forward and knows he's over stepping boundaries, but he cannot stop himself. He caresses the side of Steve's head, carding his fingers through his hair. After all these months, it still seems natural and right and something breaks and fragments in Tony because he's secretly glad that Steve is slightly incapacitated and in need. He's happy to know he can have this little bit of heaven even if it is stolen and wrong. 

Steve doesn't stop him, only holds his one hand tighter and brings it to his lips. A whispered touch and, for only a second, Tony thinks he feels the press of lips to his palm and then it is gone. He looks down at Steve, feels the stubble of Steve's beard, and recognizes the pain from the wound but also the emotional struggle that still resides within them both. 

Bruce says, "I'm done. I'd like to clean it up and bandage it." He stands up and pulls out the first aid kit. 

"Stark, tell me you have a plan?" Natasha yells back to him and he's yanked out of his shared moment with Steve and gazes up at her. She clarifies. "Where do you want us to go?"

He considers; he weighs it out. He pulls the faceplate back in place and says, "JARVIS stop all transactions on the house by the lake and the institute."

"Immediately, sir."

He stops, sighs, and asks, "JARVIS, when did you stop the transactions on the properties?" 

Since JARVIS is still functioning under the dictates of the master code, he answers without delay. "When you donned the Iron Man Mark VI, sir."

"The first time?"

"Yes, when Ms Potts directed me to. She was fairly certain that you would see the error of your ways. She told me to tell you, happy early birthday, sir."

He shakes his head. He lifts up the faceplate and says to Natasha, "Lake Chauquatua."

She raises a brow but doesn't say anything as they fly the jet toward the designated site. 

He looks down at Steve who looks weary and burnt out, but with an edge of hope. 

As Bruce cleanses all of Steve's wounds and wraps them in gauze, Tony grasps Steve’s hand and says, "Soon."

"Soon?" The word is all too hopeful and all too fearful at once.

"Yeah, babe, soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are almost at the end! \o/ The next chapter will decide where our boys will end up, they have a lot to face and decide. This next chapter (and all of you lovely readers) will decide where I go (or if I continue) with this series. I do have some ideas for it - but may or may not touch upon them. Tell me what you think of this chapter, and what you might hope that happens in the next.....
> 
> Unfortunately no beta - and I am always interested in minor corrections - thanks!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony stands there waiting to find out what just happened, but instead he listens to Steve throwing up everything he just ate for breakfast and realizes he caused that to happen. He hurt Steve, twisted Steve enough that Steve blames himself for it all. Damn it to hell and back again, the realization strikes him how irreparable it all is.

**Present Day**  
Sitting across from the bed where a wounded Captain America lies sleeping, Tony notches his chin on his fist as he leans his elbow on the arm of the cushioned chair. Steve has been sleeping for nearly thirty hours. He wanted to wake him up at the twenty four hour mark but Bruce stopped him. 

“He needs his rest,” Bruce had said with a hand to his arm.

“He’s been sleeping forever. Are we sure he’s not, like, in a coma or something?” Tony said and peered into his room in the house on the lake.

“He lost some blood, his body is healing. Give him time,” Bruce said and only let go of Tony’s arm when he’d relaxed a little. 

After they had arrived at Lake Chauquatua, Natasha and Clint disappeared with the Quinjet and Bruce stayed behind with them. He doesn’t resent it, in fact he welcomes his brother in all things science, but he does worry about what will happen once the shit hits the fan. He knows it will, eventually.

Bruce invites himself into the bedroom, and quietly checks on the patient. He peels back the gauze and bandages. The wounds are only a fine pucker of pinkish skin now. The damage had been minimal; they’d been lucky. He removes all of the bandages and Steve shifts and opens his eyes. He frowns at Bruce and Tony stands, knowing full well what Steve goes through when he wakes each morning – his memories don’t mesh with reality. It takes a moment and, having Bruce of all people within swinging range, probably isn’t the best idea.

Backing off, Bruce sits back and waits. Steve moves up on his elbows, winces, and looks at his bare shoulder. He straightens and sits up, putting the heels of both hands to his eyes. 

“Steve?” Bruce asks, his voice is whisper low and tentative.

Looking up from his hands, Steve glances once at Bruce, and then lets his gaze travel to Tony. He quirks a face and says, “I gotta take a leak.”

Tony cocks a brow and shrugs his shoulders as Steve stands up and shuffles over to the bathroom, a slight limp the only after effect of the wound to his leg. 

“He must have the biggest bladder in the world,” Tony mentions and then looks at Bruce. “Do you pee when you’re the other guy?”

“What?” Bruce scowls at him. “Do you want to find out?”

Tony startles back and raises his hands. “Hey, just curious.”

After a few minutes, Tony hears the water running in the shower and goes to dig out some of the clothes he had delivered to the house. He pulls out a pair of sleeping pants and a t-shirt. He doesn’t plan on letting Steve just amble out of his life, plus Bruce recommended that Steve stay put for a while until he’s fully recovered. 

Bruce waits a moment and says, “Don’t tax him. I know you two must have a lot to talk about. But leave him be.”

“You have no idea, Bruce. What I did, what broke us apart-.”

Bruce stops him. “Is between the two of you. If you love him make sure he knows, but don’t go ballistic if you can’t have him. That doesn’t work for anyone, believe me.”

“Thanks,” Tony says as he lays the clothes out on the bed. Bruce exits just as Tony’s phone rings. He yanks it out of his pocket and sees that it is Pepper. He listens to the shower and decides he should take the call, if anything he owes it to Pepper. He connects the call and says, “Pep?”

“Hey, Tony, I wanted to-.”

“Pep, it might not be the best time.”

“Why? Are you okay? I heard something,” Pepper starts. “Do you know they had an agent at headquarters looking for you and Steve? Something about a break in at an old SHIELD facility.”

“What?” Tony stops as he paces the room. “Who was there? What happened?”

“Fury put a stop to it, but it got a little nasty. You should have seen Happy,” Peppers says and there is a sweet fondness in her voice.

“Happy? Fury? What the hell, Pepper, why didn’t you call me earlier?” Tony says and knows being secluded here and waiting it out with Steve might not be an opinion he has. “What happened?”

“They were looking for Steve,” Pepper says. “I wanted to call you but was worried they might be monitoring my calls.”

“Are they?” Tony says and calls out, “JARVIS?”

“This call is secure, sir,” JARVIS replies.

“They were, but I was able to figure out a way around it with Happy and Rhodey’s help.” She sounds a little breathless, and he realizes he can hear her moving around in the background.

“Where are you now?”

“Airport, Happy and I are leaving the country for a while,” Pepper says. “Don’t worry about the company, I’m not leaving it.”

“What?” It feels like he buried by an avalanche of information. “Pepper, what?” His throat tightens and he knows he has to get a grip and soon. The whole point of setting things straight in his life is to finally be able to face Steve and tell him he’s ready, he’s trustworthy, he won’t fall apart. 

“Okay, let me-.” She stops and mumbles something to someone with her. “I have to go out of the country for business, but I’m also going to take a few days off. It seemed like a good idea to time it now, with SHIELD breathing down our necks.”

“Seems reasonable,” Tony replies, but what else is he supposed to say. “I’ll deal with SHIELD.”

“Hoped you’d say that, Iron Man.” Her voice almost sounds happy when she responds. “I also wanted to thank you for doing what you did.”

“What I did?”

“You know, you talked to Happy.”

“I did?” Tony says. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I did, I did.”

“All’s good.”

“It is?” Tony asks. “Really?”

“Really good,” Pepper says and then adds, “Tony make sure you figure things out on your end. Okay?”

“Okay.” They disconnect.

He stops and hears that the shower has finished. Irrationally, he backs away from the bed and the clothes he’s laid out there. He doesn’t want to seem forward or expectant, but when Steve enters, face newly shaved and hair a mess and dripping with water, Tony cannot stop the tightening in his groin, the twist of want in his belly. 

Steve stops and stares at Tony. He holds a towel in his hand with another slung low on his hips. “Tony.” He glances at the clothes on the bed and then back at Tony. “Sorry, a little disoriented when I woke up.” He raises the towel to dry his hair. “I can. I can go back downstairs.”

Tony strides across the room and catches Steve’s arm but quickly disengages. “Bruce is staying in your room.”

“In my room?” Steve looks at the door and then back at Tony. “But the drawings, I did.”

“Are gone, Steve,” Tony says and he forces himself not to weep as he states the cold facts of his grief, of his anger, of his frustration. “I was going to sell the place-,” he starts to explain.

Steve lifts a hand and it looks more like a shield than a reconciliatory motion. “Don’t worry about it, it’s your house.” He gathers up the clothes. “Thanks, I’ll be right back.” He leaves Tony alone in the room, closing and locking the bathroom door as he does. 

The tension aches and Tony scrubs a hand through his hair. What did he expect? Flowers and chocolates? He bows his head and tells himself to man up. Going to the bathroom door, he knocks and says, “I’m going to go get something for you to eat.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve responds.

 _The hell I don’t._ Tony wants to reply but instead says, “Bruce wants you off your leg. The bullet did considerable damage to your muscle and he wants it to heal right. So, we listen to the big green doctor who isn’t that kind of doctor anyway.”

He hears a little chuckle and says, “Okay, umm, thanks.”

Tony nods even though Steve can’t see it. “Be right back.” He wants to say something else, something more, but he just adds, “Make yourself at home.” He cringes when he says it. Christ, he is way out of practice with this.

Clearing his head, he jogs down the stairs and enters the kitchen. Two spies and one man with breathtaking anger issues are gathered around the island, drinking coffee and tea (for Bruce). Natasha looks like she just came from a workout while Clint sports a few interesting bruises along his neck. Tony decides it is best not to say anything, who is he to judge?

“Gonna make Steve some eggs and stuff,” he says and scoots around them to the stove top. “JARVIS menu items for comfort food, breakfast cross reference with Steve Rogers, please.”

“You are hopeless,” Natasha says and sips her coffee.

“And you and bird boy here are leaving,” Tony points to Barton as he pulls out a frying pan and utensils. 

“We are?” Barton says. “Some host you are.”

Tony frowns and says, “Gotta call from Pepper, SHIELD is nosing around Stark Industries looking for Steve. Fury’s putting them off. Fury knows about this place and probably already figured out where we are. I need you to go and back us up and him. I don’t need anyone sniffing around there until we figure out what’s up with the thumb drive Steve has.”

“Sounds like we won’t be staying for breakfast,” Natasha says and places her cup on the counter. “I really wanted an omelet.”

Tony smirks. “You do not want one of my omelets.”

“I make a mean ham and cheese omelet,” Bruce says and waves Tony away from the stovetop and begins preparing the frying pan and retrieving bowls and eggs. “How did you get this stocked so quickly?”

“The wonders of modern technology,” Tony says.

“Did Pepper do it?” Bruce says and whisks eggs in a bowl.

Tony presses his lips together and shakes his head. “No, okay, yes, she helped out, but it was mainly JARVIS.”

Bruce hangs his head. “That woman is priceless.”

“And not mine,” Tony replies as he pulls out fresh spinach for the omelet. “For the growing boy upstairs. Make sure he has some of that in his omelet, too.”

Bruce only hesitates a moment, but doesn’t question Tony. He continues the task as Tony rummages through the refrigerator and finds some fruits, blueberries, strawberries, red grapes, and raspberries. “You think he’d like a smoothie?”

“Not one of those wretched green ones you make, no,” Bruce says and drains the bowl of eggy mixture into the frying pan. 

“You seemed to like them,” Tony says.

“I always poured them down the lab drain when you disappeared into one of your inventing fugues.” Bruce busies himself with the art of omelet making while Tony scoffs at him.

“Those were good healthy smoothies.” He searches the cupboards for the blender. “JARVIS, blender?”

“In the pantry, sir.”

“We have a pantry?” Tony spins around while Bruce points to a closet off the side of the kitchen near the door to the garage. “Oh, okay.” He finds the light switch and the blender without a problem and comes back to set it up on the counter.

“You know how to use that thing, Stark?” Natasha says as she comes back from her shower. He hadn’t even realizes she left. She’s stealthy. Of course Barton is gone too. 

“Go away,” Tony retorts and dumps a tray of ice into the blender. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure you do, sure you do,” Natasha smirks and drains the rest of her coffee. “We’re off.”

Barton reappears in the kitchen, outfitted for a small war or something. 

Christ, how is this his life. He plops some yogurt, milk, chopped berries into the mix and covers it.

“Take care,” Bruce says.

“Report back, okay? I want to know how many of us are in danger and if I have to activate my lost protocol.” 

Natasha pauses at the door to the garage. “Lost protocol?”

“You don’t want to know,” Tony says as he turns on the blender and watches all the fruit get mashed up. 

Natasha tilts her head and smiles then both she and Barton signal good bye and disappear. He hears the sound of their rental car seconds later and they are down the driveway. 

“You think Fury can protect them?”

Tony huffs. “They can protect themselves. I just hope to hell whatever is going down at SHIELD doesn’t fall on our heads.” 

Bruce sets up a tray and dishes out the omelets. They are masterpieces and Tony smiles as he pours out the pink smoothie. He picks up the tray and starts off, but before he turns the corner down the hallway toward the staircase Bruce says, “Give him time.”

Tony inhales once and nods. Time. Time is what he has bundles off and not enough of. Time is something he’s always managed poorly. When he gets to the one bedroom on the second floor, he has to shoulder the door open and, luckily, it isn’t latched. He walks into the room and Steve is sitting at one of the large over stuffed cushioned chairs near the stone fireplace on the opposite of the door. The full expanse of windows shows the lake. The house is situated to see the sunset over the lake and not the sunrise. The glinting on the quiet ripples is still beautiful.

As he walks into the room, Steve jumps up and stumbles a bit, forgetting his wounded leg. He rights himself without trouble and goes to cross the room to help Tony.

“Sit,” Tony says and only adds when Steve hesitates, “Bruce wants you resting your leg.”

“Okay,” Steve says as he settles back in the chair. 

Tony places the tray on the table next to the chair and shoves a foot stool over for Steve to rest his leg on. He pats it and waits for Steve to follow the unspoken direction. Steve does. Tony eases back and watches with some anxious expectation.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Steve says and reaches for the fork. “You made this?”

Tony shakes his head and can’t stand how sweaty and moist his palms feel. “No, I wanted to, but Bruce is some omelet guru in all weird ass parts of the world. Thought I’d let the master do the work.”

“Oh, oh,” Steve says and keeps his eyes on the plate. “Thank him, will you? For me?”

“Sure, no problem.” Tony thumbs over his shoulder. “He’ll probably be up in a bit to check on you, and your wounds. And how are they?”

“They?”

“Bullet holes,” Tony says with a cursory wave to the favored shoulder and propped up leg. “And whatever possessed you to go into complex like that on your own.”

“Done it before, and I didn’t really have the opportunity for back up.”

“Oh, you mean since you dropped off the face of the Earth?” Tony says and immediately regrets his words.

Steve doesn’t rise to the bait though; he shrugs a shoulder with a visible flinch and says, “I did what I had to do. You should understand that, you always do what you want to do without thinking of how it might affect others.”

Okay, Tony thinks, maybe he did rise to the bait. Tony bites back his acrid reply and says, “Why don’t you eat, we can talk a little later.”

Steve scoops up more of the egg concoction and, after he finishes chewing, says, “I’m not sure we have much to talk about.”

There are moments that funnel and spin and pin down the definition of life. He recognizes this as one of those moments. It has always been a marvel to him that these moments are not the big explosive, someone just blew up your house moments, but something small and quiet and quite literally breathtaking in its simplicity. He needs to struggle against it, fight it with every molecule of energy he can gather. 

He can see the reaction in front of him, the mountain of the activation energy he’ll have to surmount in order to achieve any results, any product, anything he wants at all. He is not willing to give up so easily. He might lose a battle, but he refuses to lose the war. He’ll win; he just has to hold on for the peak of the reaction and not let the force of it blow him away.

“I think we do, I think we have a lot to talk about,” Tony says. He keeps his eyes level with Steve’s. He is not going to let anything take away this moment, his chance. “I think I’d like to ask you to give me a moment, a chance. If you’ll grant me that, and you still don’t see any reason to talk I’ll walk away.”

Steve puts his fork down and licks his lips once. He says, “I don’t know what to say to you, Tony. But the fact is I can’t be what you want me to be. I can’t.”

“You’re not giving me a chance to-.”

“I don’t have to, Tony. This isn’t about you.”

Tony nods and has to tear his gaze away; it’s too hard not to let it take him, the sinking, drowning feeling that has overwhelmed him. He whispers, “Steve, please.”

Struggling to his feet, Steve hobbles to Tony and stands over him. He looks like a mountain, he looks like a wall. He looks like he’ll never crumble in front of Tony, but he does. When he does, the words he says startle and confuse Tony so much, he is at a loss as to how to reply.

“I shouldn’t have done what I did. I didn’t know,” Steve says. “I should have been more aware, but I wasn’t. I let you take the ball and I never learned, never even cracked open a book to find out.”

“What?” Tony says and finds his mouth parched and dry. What the hell is Steve saying?

“I made a horrible mistake, Tony. I left you, as your submissive, I should have allowed you to take the time, make it right. We were both in it,” Steve says and he looks pale, drawn, weak. “I walked out and never even gave us the chance to fix it. I hid from it, my own fears of it. I didn’t let you make it right.”

“Steve, no,” Tony says and tries to cobble words together, but his whole speech he’d worked on all those hours Steve slept away his injury fails him. He cannot find a single word to piece anything together into coherency. 

Steve gives a little laugh, but it holds no mirth. “Yes, I’m sorry. And can you leave now; I’m not feeling too well.” He doesn’t give Tony a chance to reply. He limps his way to the bathroom and locks the door. 

_What the hell?_

Tony stands there waiting to find out what just happened, but instead he listens to Steve throwing up everything he just ate for breakfast and realizes he caused that to happen. He hurt Steve, twisted Steve enough that Steve blames himself for it all. Damn it to hell and back again, the realization strikes him how irreparable it all is.

*oOo*  
“It must be serious.”

Tony picks up his head from his lab bench and screws up his face. His mouth tastes like spoiled cabbage and his head feels stuffed up with oily rags. He sniffs and does not like the smell at all. Bruce stands over him with a pot (yes a whole pot) of coffee with a mug. “I thought you might like to come back to the world of the living before Steve leaves?”

“He’s leaving?” Tony jumps up only to knock over his chair and several of the instruments on the lab bench.

Setting the tray down on the bench, Bruce pours the coffee and says, “No, I convinced him he needs a few days of rest and a good meal that actually stays put.”

“He’s still throwing up?”

Bruce nods and shoves the coffee at him. “Yeah. He confessed it’s been happening on and off for a while, now.”

Tony looks down at the black coffee, and closes his eyes. He really fucked this up. “Christ,” he murmurs.

Bruce picks up a mug from the tray from which a tea tag dangles. “Do you, can you tell me what happened between the two of you?”

“I thought you weren’t that kind of doctor?” Tony says and immediately regrets it. He sighs. “I wish I could. I did something, and I broke a trust. Let’s put it that way. It was a pretty big thing. Not like cheating or anything like that, but I broke his trust in me.”

“That’s funny, that’s interesting. Really great, and weird.” 

“Doctor, you are not making any sense at all.” Tony drinks the coffee and he can honestly say this is one thing that Bruce just doesn’t know how to do well. He supposes years of drinking only herbal teas will lead to the loss of coffee knowledge. 

“It’s weird because he said something similar,” Bruce says.

“He’s nuts. He likes to take the burden of the world on his shoulders. Remember, this is Captain Fucking America and he thinks lying down on the wire is his sacred duty.” Tony scowls as he tastes the coffee. “Seriously, man, you have to stop trying to make coffee.”

Bruce chuckles and slides over the sugar bowl to Tony, as if that will make all the difference in the world. “Steve said nearly the same thing.”

That quiets Tony and he studies the coffee before he can look up at Bruce again. “I fucked up, I mean really fucked up. Whatever Steve told you, it was really me who did it. I let my fears and anxiety get the best of me. I took it out on Steve.”

“He’s a pretty strong guy; I bet he could’ve taken it.”

“Maybe, but he should’ve had to,” Tony says. “That isn’t something you do to someone you love.”

“It’s been a long time now, do you still love him?” Bruce asks. 

Tony swallows and it’s hard and prickly and he has no one to blame but himself. “Yeah, more than ever.”

“He might have changed.”

“I’ve changed.” He doesn’t add – hopefully for the better.

“Maybe that’s good, maybe you’ve overcome it?” Bruce asks and dunks his tea bag a few times. “He’s resting now, so give him some time and then go see him.”

Tony rubs at his eyes and says, “What time is it?”

“Midnight,” Bruce answers.

“And you’re giving me coffee?” Tony frowns.

“It’s decaf,” Bruce winks as he starts back toward the door.

“You know what my big green friend?” Tony calls after him.

Just as he rounds the door, Bruce peers back in and says, “What’s that?”

“You are good at this shit.”

Bruce only answers with a laugh.

Later, Tony decides he should find some way to sleep because he has to face the music tomorrow. He has to actually figure out what he wants to say to Steve and talk to him, he can’t hide forever. He could, but what the hell was the whole point of this anyhow? He trudges up the stairs from the basement and as he steps onto the stairs to take him to his room, he realizes Steve is actually up there. He can’t go up there now. The guy needs his rest.

He turns back to the hallway with the guest rooms. Bruce is in Steve’s room. He stops briefly by the door and wonders what Bruce might be doing. Instead of knocking, he continues on and finds himself at the door Steve had first tried to pick as his room in the lakehouse. Tony recalls how Steve picked it and Tony only rolled his eyes and told him the view stunk; he should pick the other room on the other side of the hallway. Steve had hesitated, and Tony fussed and forced him not to be the bleeding heart.

Tony takes the room with no view. He doesn’t bother with the lights, just shucks off his pants and shirt and throws himself on the bed. The room smells a little dusty and probably needs a good cleaning. He wonders where Clint and Natasha stayed. Surely not in this musty room. 

As he stares up into the dark room, he thinks of those first few days with Steve, how tentative everything was, how awkward, but also how sweet and innocent. Steve hadn’t been the virgin Tony always thought he was. He laughed when Tony made the assumption, shook his head, and mentioned the USO girls and being on tour.

You dog, had been what Tony responded to that revelation. He smiles at the thought, at the memory. He liked to watch Steve remember the good and the bad, because it meant Steve trusted him enough to share those revered memories. He loved the way he lowered his eyes and then looked up at Tony, seeking something. Approval? Affirmation? Tony never knew, he only hoped he’d given Steve what he needed. Steve had given him that and so much more. 

As he thinks on Steve, recalls the moments, the hours, the days he shared with him. He gets achingly hard and remembers lying in his bed upstairs that first night they’d come here, watching a documentary on Captain America and jerking off to it. Just the thought of it causes his dick to twitch and he shudders a little trying to hold back the need. 

He thinks about Steve, upstairs, just upstairs not miles away and lost to him. He’s so close, so damned close. Tony turns his head into the musty pillow but doesn’t smell it. The strong smell of Steve’s soap, the scent of his shampoo lingers in his memory and he only thinks of it. How he loved to wash Steve after one of their sessions. He would soap him, caress him, and take care of him. God, how he wanted to take care of Steve again. Just to make sure he was okay, all right, not just surviving.

He yanks down his waist band and shoves his hand down his shorts. His dick feels hot and searing in his palm. Pre-come leaks down the head and he moans a little into the pillow trying to stifle the need. He shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t lie here jerking off, fantasizing about someone who doesn’t want him anymore. He shouldn’t do it when Steve is hurting, when Steve’s internalized it enough that he’s puking out his guts in order to deal with it. He doesn’t want Steve to hurt. Not like that, never like that.

 

He wants to help Steve. He wants to touch Steve. He wants to support and hold him. He strokes his dick, gliding the pre-come down the length of it. He closes his eyes and just curses himself. He takes himself in hand and with firm fast motions fucks into his fist until he spills in a gasp. It doesn’t take the edge off, it doesn’t do anything at all for him other than make him feel dirty and wrong.

“What the fuck,” Tony says and rolls over. He wipes his hand on the comforter and closes his eyes.

He doesn’t sleep the entire night.

*oOo*  
Bruce becomes his guardian angel, he’s sure. After he showers in the morning, Bruce appears at his door with an armful of clothes and says, “I’m bringing Steve his breakfast thought you might want to come up with me.”

“Sure just let me finish up,” Tony says and takes the clothes from Bruce’s arms. “Thanks.”

He shrugs and disappears down the hallway into the kitchen. Tony dries off and quickly dresses. He only finger combs his damp hair but hopes that’s enough. Crap, he feels like a teenager going out on his first date. He presses down the t-shirt, his hand gliding over the scar where the arc reactor used to be. For a moment, he thinks of Steve – how he would kiss the center of the reactor sometimes afterwards. It would always be a light, almost throw away gesture, one that Tony hardly ever thought of, but now the reactor is gone. Things have changed.

“For the better,” Tony tells himself and straightens his shoulders before he leaves to find Bruce. 

Entering the kitchen, he finds Bruce loading up a tray with various breakfast foods, from omelets, to bacon, to fruit, to tea (thank God no coffee) and breads. He raises his eyebrows and says, “That’s a lot of food.”

“He needs it and you’re staying for breakfast so it might be a good idea to eat a little bit.”

“You think?”

“I’m told it’s a socially acceptable way to break the ice,” Bruce says as he hands Tony a pitcher of juice and two stacked glasses.

“Is that so?” Tony asks.

“Yep, officially it is the most important meal of the day.”

“Now you’re just quoting commercials.”

“Or something,” Bruce says and picks up the tray. “Give me a break; I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel here.”

“Or something,” Tony agrees under his breath. Bruce waits for a moment as if he can read that Tony’s nervous. Tony only smiles at him and tells him to hop along. 

Bruce leads the way and, when they enter the bedroom; Steve is sitting in the chair closest to the windows with a book in his lap. He has his head back on the cushion, his hands lax in his lap with the book sliding off his knee. Bruce settles the tray on the side table before picking up the book and casting it aside.

“Told me he hasn’t been sleeping well either,” Bruce says. “From my notes on the team, he’s lost about fifteen pounds.”

Tony can still see the glow of a tan on the good captain’s face but can also make out the thinner line of it. He’s not small or gaunt by any stretch of the imagination, but the loss of muscle mass is obvious once he’s been primed to look for it.

“Is he? Is he okay?” Tony asks and puts the pitcher and juice glasses to the side of the tray.

“He will be,” Bruce says. “But you need to make sure he stays with family now instead of running. Make sure he stops running.”

Bruce turns and, without further word, exits. For one second, Tony kind of hates Bruce for abandoning him, but he knows it is for the best and the only way he’ll be able to confront both of their demons.

He reaches out, thinks better of it, and then says, “Steve?”

He jerks to alertness immediately, looking around, ready to fight. 

“Just me, brought you some breakfast,” Tony says and pulls up a chair next to the table. He points to the offerings. “Tea, fruit, omelets a la Bruce again, juice though it probably isn’t freshly squeezed. Bacon, everyone loves bacon but probably not vegetarians. I think bacon is a big no-no there.”

Steve cups his hands over his face, yawns once, and says, “For the longest time I didn’t know what a vegetarian was.”

“No?” Tony picks up a dish and scoops out an omelet, fruit, bacon lots of bacon, and toast for Steve. He plunks itdown right in front of Steve while he makes up a more modest plate for himself.

“Yeah, it was weird. Then someone threw the term vegan at me and I really got confused,” Steve says and yawns again.

“Tired?” Tony says and knows it is just a ridiculous conversation but he has to keep it moving forward, not letting it stop, because if it stops he has to confront the unthinkable. 

“A bit, can’t sleep,” Steve says and murmurs something low and indistinguishable. He turns the subject though before Tony can ask him anything. “You know when I first woke up I refused to sleep for over a week.”

“No, I did not know that,” Tony says and chomps on some bacon as Steve does the same.

“Yeah, yeah, I like stayed awake and did everything and anything I could to stay awake. Got really good a Mario Kart.”

“Seriously, you played Mario Kart right after you woke up?” Tony chokes a little on the bacon.

Steve shrugs and smiles. “I don’t know, it seems strange but not. I was kind of entranced by it. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. The doctors thought I had brain damage.”

“Weren’t you in psyche ward?”

“Yeah,” Steve laughs. “They really thought I was nuts. I was just so fascinated by the little guy Mario and the turtle shells. It made absolutely no sense to me. I thought I had gone nuts.”

Tony shakes his head and tries to imagine waking up in a new world with something as odd and strange as Mario Kart. “How did you possibly manage? I can’t even-.”

Steve stands up abruptly and walks over to the bathroom. His limp is nearly gone. “I did. There really wasn’t any other choice, was there?” He goes into the bathroom and Tony listens. He knows it’s creepy but he wants to find out if the guy is sick again. Thankfully he only hears the sounds of the water. Steve comes back out, towel in hand. He tosses the towel on the bed and crosses the room to sit down.

“We can talk about this now, or we can discuss my skills at video games which are surprisingly up to date. Now, what would you like to do?” 

Tony gags and then frowns. Steve has his Captain America attitude on as if with a simple stroke of his hand and a fling of his shield all will be right with the world again. He puts down the strip of bacon and sighs. He doesn’t avoid conflict; he always faces it off and thumbs his nose at it, so he really doesn’t have any excuse now.

“Okay, can you sit?”

“If you want me to,” Steve says.

“I want, and you still need to rest your leg according to Bruce.”

“Our resident doctor but not that kind of doctor.”

“Exactly,” Tony says as Steve grips the arm rest and settles himself into the seat of the chair. Tony catches the slight wince as he flexes his leg and then stretches it out to put it on the stool. Once he’s done, Tony hands him a cup of tea and says, “Please just take it.”

Steve accepts it, and makes a show of drinking it.

“What happened,” Tony starts and finds his throat close up. He clears it and tries again, but takes a different angle. “After, I went to Pepper. I got lost, I was lost. I didn’t know it at the time but New York, what happened to you in L.A., they just brought everything to a head.”

Steve stays quiet, his gaze intense but not frightening, more inviting and interested.

“After, you and I – I suffered these panic or anxiety or something attacks. I couldn’t sleep, and when I did I had these nightmares. Damn it, once I had this nightmare and called the Mark forty two to bed. Scared Pepper to death,” Tony says. “It isn’t an excuse but it is the truth.”

“I’m not sure what you’re telling me, Tony.” Steve places the cup down and considers him. “You said you didn’t want this – that you didn’t want our relationship. And now, you’re with Pepper.”

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“Pepper and I broke up,” Tony says. “And I think this time it is pretty final, in fact, I know it is.”

“Okay?” Steve says and his brow furrows and he looks like he’s thinking about what Tony’s said but cannot fit all the pieces together yet.

“I couldn’t lie anymore and she couldn’t either,” Tony says. “It doesn’t matter if I have the suit or not, I’m still Iron Man and Pepper, well, she has a right not to want to be part of that world.”

“Okay?” Steve says again, puzzlement still etched on his face.

“After Malibu things crashed into me, I realized I did it to take charge, I needed to face my demons.”

“Yeah, after Malibu,” Steve says and his face has gone considerably paler. “I remember that.” His gaze drops to his folded hands.

“Listen, we can deal with that in a bit, can I just get through this?” Tony says and feels all the more like he doesn’t deserve Steve, like he should just walk out the door and forget it, release Steve from this vicious cycle.

“Things clarified for me after my house blew up,” Tony says. “What can I say, some people need to meditate, I need to get annihilated.” He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees, clasps his hands and stares at the floor; he doesn’t think he can watch Steve as he talks. “When we were together, that last time, I was falling apart. It started in New York, right before we went to the campus.”

Tony doesn’t look up but he hears Steve shift in his seat. “I should have said something, but I did what I always do, I lost myself in my work. You know I did.” He recalls ignoring Steve for days. “Then I found you again, we found each other again and I thought, I thought I could use it as a lifeline.” Tony looks up and sees Steve, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, listening, perched forward. “I used us like a crutch. I didn’t know. I wanted-.”

“You didn’t want us,” Steve says and his voice is low and hurt – still.

“No,” Tony says. “That’s not true. I wanted us. I did, I do. I wanted to be with you, but I made a terrible mistake. I lost myself in our play; it became bigger than me, bigger than us.”

“You didn’t like it?”

Tony scrubs his hands through his hair and knows, understands he’s doing this completely wrong. “I did, I loved every minute of it. I fucking loved it.”

“I don’t understand.”

The fear wells up, bubbles over, and he cannot contain it. It is like cupping his hands and having someone pour boiling water into them. He cannot hold it. “I wanted you, I still want you. I loved you, I still love you.” He stands up, paces the room, and rubs his hands over his face. “You don’t know what happened after. I went a little nuts. Pepper took me in, thank God. She became my lifeline and I had to protect her at all costs because I couldn’t protect you.”

“I still don-.”

“You’re not supposed to,” he admits. He stops and stares at Steve, meets his gaze and says, “Save me, because I love you more than anything in this fucked up world. The thought of losing you, of breaking you, and seeing you torn apart, it broke me.”

He knows, he knows as soon as he states it, he’s made an error – one he can never come back from. Steve gasps and shudders. His hands tremble as he lifts them to cover his face. Muffled he says, “I didn’t realize, I didn’t know-.” He pulls his hands away and says, “I’m sorry, Tony, I never meant to hurt you.”

Just as the fear overwhelmed him the anger crashes into him. His chest feels tight, his eyes burn, and his brain runs on overdrive. “No, no. You don’t get it. I’m the dominant, me, not you. I should have taken control, and that means controlling my own needs and wants and understanding what the hell is going on inside my own head before I decide to play. I should never touch you if I cannot control myself.”

“But I pushed you-.”

“You did nothing of the sort,” Tony rages. “It was me, me. I hurt you; I did it in an uncontrolled manner. I hurt you because I could, because it felt good and because I wasn’t in control. I yelled at you, I choked you without getting your consent. I called you names.”

Steve doesn’t respond. His hands grasp his knees in a white knuckled grip. 

Tony strides over to Steve and kneels at his feet. “I wasn’t in control, I promised I would be. If I couldn’t control myself, I should have told you outright that I needed something else.” He searches Steve’s expression for understanding. “I should have confessed that at that moment, at that juncture in time, I needed you only to love me and nothing more.”

“But you did it for me, I needed-.”

“I did it for me, Steve, I wanted to do it.” Tony wants so much to touch Steve, to reach out and grasps his hands, yet he knows he has no right to so he keeps still. He searches Steve’s eyes, looking for something. “I did it because I was falling apart by degrees. Seeing you torn up, shredded sent me over the edge.”

It is Steve who reaches out, extends his hand, and cups Tony’s chin. “You were in the wrong headspace. Am I supposed to blame you for that? Am I supposed to think you should have been perfect?”

“Why not?” Tony says. “When you were perfect for me?”

“Was I?” Steve removes his hand and only the cold whisper of emptiness answers Tony. “I don’t think so. Part of being submissive is to actually understand what your dominant needs. I wasn’t there for you.”

Tony shakes his head. “No, Steve, I didn’t attend to you. Do you understand? Do you get it? I failed.”

In a sudden turn, Steve jumps up and practically shoves Tony away. “Why, why, why is it always about success or failure with you? For God’s sake, Tony, neither of us are experts at this. You think you should know everything, be perfect with everything. You goad terrorists into blowing up your house; you get crazy demi-gods to toss you out windows. What the hell? You make mistakes Tony, you do. And you do not have to be perfect for me.”

“Why not, you’re perfect for me.”

Steve throws his head back and laughs, but it mocks and cuts with deep slices. Steve looks at him as Tony stands up. “Perfect, tell me I’m perfect when I needed you to tear me down and rebuild me so the dreams and the nightmares wouldn’t follow me. So that I could eat and sleep without the sounds of my life from before haunting me. You want to know how fucked up in the head I am – you want to know – I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, since I lost you. Because you, Tony, you were my anchor, my only hold on this crazy reality I’m stuck in.”

“Steve.”

“No, no, hear me out.” Steve paces as Tony did, yet his is gaited with his limp. “Before we – before it happened, I went to listen to men who don’t understand the world we live in. I went to D.C.. They bickered and fought about what it means to be a hero and the only thing they’ve ever sacrificed is a day at the golf course for state dinner.

“I kept thinking of you, what I would do if we split apart. What I would do if something like a Registration Act tore us apart and it sickened me, it worn me out and worn me thin. I was terrified.” Steve runs a hand through his shortened hair. “I just, I walked into that condo already too broken for you to fix me. I shouldn’t have leaned so heavily. I should have told you what was going on; instead I looked for you to fix me without all the pieces and parts.

“I don’t,” Steve says and looks up at the ceiling and when he meets Tony’s gaze again Tony sees his eyes are glossy, his lashes wet. “I don’t even know if any of it can be fixed, anymore, without you.”

Tony crosses the space between them and it feels like forever, it feels like the god damned great divide, but he pushes through it and doesn’t hesitate, he wraps his arms around Steve and holds him, embraces him. He presses his lips tentatively along Steve’s jaw, then follows with kisses along the stubble of his chin and finally finds his lips.

They taste so good as he presses forward, as he seeks and yearns and is allowed entrance. He nips and then glides his tongue into Steve’s mouth as his parries with him for support, for dominance, for submission. Everything, every molecule in his body rings out, stings and prickles, and burns and fires. He needs more, he wants more. He feels the edge, the hardening of Steve next to his hip and he gasps. How much has he wanted this? For how long has he prayed to unseeing, unfeeling gods for this? Damn it, he would have sold his soul to Loki for just this moment in time.

Steve pulls away and breathes heavily, in shortened pants. Tony feels it then, the tears streaming down Steve’s face. They stain Tony’s cheeks and when he reaches up to brush them away, Steve captures his hand and kisses it.

“I can’t, Tony, not yet, not now.”

“Steve?”

He steps away and turns his face. “Please, please leave.”

“Steve?” No, no, no, this was not happening. “Steve?”

“Please, Tony.”

“Promise me, promise me you won’t leave, promise me you’ll stay?” Tony says. He won’t budge until he hears the promise, the vow.

Steve nods and whispers, “Yes.”

Tony sighs, it hurts and he feels his own tears mixing with Steve’s. “Okay,” he murmurs and leaves.

*oOo*  
After five hours of staring into space, Tony finds that his eyes hurt and his head aches. He locked himself in his lab hours ago and even JARVIS failed to elicit a response of any kind. He cannot process everything he heard. They are broken, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, beyond repair. He has to come to terms with it. He reaches out and touches the dented and scratched mask of the Mark VI. It is really the only thing he has left, that and JARVIS plus the bots. What the hell will he do with his life?

He followed a path he should have never broached. Now, he is lost and wandering. He cannot even confess to Bruce what the hell is going on without breaking a trust. He shrugs, doesn’t matter anyway, Bruce has made himself scarce to give them some breathing room. He’s sure Bruce is spending time down in the local town getting to know the artisans who stay the entire year and not just the busy season. 

How does he mend something so broken and fragmented? He seemed to know how to do it, before. When he would strip Steve bare, when he would tear him from his body until only his naked soul existed, Tony knew how to piece him back together. The slow and achingly beautiful art of aftercare had been part of Tony’s favorite stage of their play interactions. Sure the sex had been mind blowing, but the aftercare had been lovemaking in its own right.

He wants to have those moments again. Yet there is so much emotional hurt, so much pain and anxiety from their last time together and from their separation, he doesn’t know how to mend it. How does he fix it? How does he-?

“Son of a bitch,” Tony says and tosses the wrench he’d been holding. He rushes out of the basement workshop, taking the steps two at a time and practically falling into the back hallway off the kitchen. He stumbles up the stairs only to find Steve standing in the middle of the kitchen in sleeping pants and a t-shirt.

“Tony.” He has a teacup in his hand and a bag, the water is about to whistle. 

Without a word, Tony crosses the room, turns off the kettle, puts the teacup and bag on the counter. He clasps one of Steve’s hands in his hand and finally says, “Trust me, just this once, trust me.”

Steve takes a moment before he nods and it nearly sends Tony into a tailspin, but he does nod. “Okay.”

“Come,” Tony says and, with his fingers still tangled in Steve’s, he leads him to the hallway, to the stairs and to the single bedroom where they first made love. 

Steve allows himself to be led into the bedroom, passed the bed, and into the bathroom. This bathroom is luxurious, large, and with every amenity. Tony inhales deeply before he turns to Steve after he closes the door. 

“One thing, we both didn’t get and I think can agree on, aftercare. After our last session, we didn’t get it,” Tony says and he can detect the slightest tremor in Steve’s hand as he speaks. Is he nervous? Is he frightened? Is he yearning for Tony? “After all we’ve both been through, the emotional wreckage of our lives, we need aftercare. I intend to give it to you, now. Will you accept it?”

Steve studies his face, looks into his eyes, and says, “Yes, okay.”

Tony separates from Steve and strips off his own clothes. He should bare himself first, show Steve who he is, that he is hard and wanting Steve. He stands before Steve naked and reaches up to tug Steve’s t-shirt off. Steve doesn’t move for a moment.

“I’m going to wash us both, Steve, you have nothing to worry about,” Tony says in a soft voice.

Steve moves to lower himself so that Tony can get the shirt off. Damn thing feels like it is a size too small. He reaches for the drawstrings but before he touches, he says, “May I?”

Steve nods but closes his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

Opening his eyes, Steve whispers, “Yes.” And Tony can see his pupils are blown wide with desire. It only tightens the need in his own groin, it only makes him want. But he ignores it; this is not about sex, not about the thrill of the end game of orgasm, but more about showing and displaying love.

He slips off Steve’s sleeping pants and finds no underwear. He piles up the clothes and turns on the faucets in the shower. “A shower first, then maybe a whirlpool bath for your muscles. Might make everything looser for you?”

“Okay, sounds good,” Steve says but his voice is raspy and light.

Once the water is a good hot temperature because Tony remembers Steve likes his showers very hot, Tony leads Steve into the large walk in shower. There are two shower heads from opposite tiled walls. The gold trim with the red tiles was probably Pepper’s doing at one point, and he loves it.

“Come,” Tony says as he positions Steve in the stream of one shower head. He leans down to the shelf which is deep and useful if you happened to be drunk and in need of someplace to sit when you shower. Picking up the shower gels, he pours it out, and rubs it onto his palms. 

He purposefully turns Steve and begins a methodical, gentle soaping of his shoulders, his back, being careful of the still tender wounds on his right arm and shoulder. He asks Steve to lift his arms and soaps up and rinses him off. He turns him and does the same to his chest, feeling and caressing the pectorals, remembering the rise and fall of Steve’s chest, his nipples. Steve shudders and stiffens as if he’s trying to stop one of his full body rolls.

“Do what you need, Steve, I promise this is for us, just us, nothing more,” Tony says. “I want to ask you for more than this, but I won’t, if you don’t want to give it.” 

He continues as Steve hisses and turns his face into the cascading water. Tony leans down and grabs the shampoo, squeezing it out and asking Steve to bend over. He scrubs it into his scalp and Steve places a hand on Tony’s shoulder to steady himself.

Tony tries to pay no heed to the fact that their cocks are standing at attention, to the way it has become more difficult to breathe without heavy sighs. Steve straightens up and the shampoo runs out of his hair and into his eyes. He closes them and picks his head up to allow the water to run over his face. 

Tony lays his hand over Steve’s heart, against his hip and their cocks are almost touching, almost near. It hurts to be so close, but he has to give this to Steve, he has to offer this to Steve so that he knows and understands that Tony would take care of him, would be everything for him, would piece them back together again. 

“I’m going to wash your thigh where you got shot, okay?”

Steve nods but doesn’t say anything, his cock drips pre-come into the wash of the water. Tony kneels down in front of Steve and uses the shower gel on his legs and on his feet. 

“Tony,” Steve says and the single word sounds strangulated.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

“Tony, please, God, touch me.”

“I’m touching you,” Tony answers and Steve shakes his head, the water dripping down his face in rivers. 

“Touch me, God, touch me. I need you,” Steve says and looks down at Tony. 

Climbing to his feet, Tony searches Steve’s expression. “You have to be ready, I’m not sure.”

Steve grabs hold of Tony’s shoulders and says, “We were wrong, we were both wrong. I love you so much it hurts and I can’t be without you. I want you, I want you now. I’m ready. I’m sure.”

“You’re sure? Really sure?”

“Damn it, Tony, yes, if I was any surer – hell I don’t know – I just know I want you now.”

Tony doesn’t stop, doesn’t let the thoughts and the doubts make him hesitate. He leaps in and crushes his lips to Steve’s mouth. He grabs hold of his face and imprisons him with a kiss as the water runs over them in a hot wash. He feels the slide and glance of Steve’s cock against his dick and he nearly passes out with want. 

“Jesus, I think I might come all over you, just now.” Tony curses.

Steve shifts his hand and grabs the base of Tony’s dick. He clasps it like he might be harnessing it. Tony hitches his breath and Steve says, “Not until you’re inside of me. God, I want you inside of me. Tell me you’ll do it, tell me you want it.”

“Christ, yes,” Tony says through kisses and nips as he bends down and kisses Steve’s throat, as he plays his tongue against his nipples. His dick in Steve’s hand throbs and jumps as he moves. “Take your hand off, or so help me I will come right now.”

Steve removes his hand but glides it along the curve of Tony’s ass. “Prep me, Tony. Use the gel, I don’t care.”

“It’ll be messy.”

Steve licks a long line up Tony’s throat and to his ear. “I want to do it in here, I want you to take me and show me I’m yours.”

“Steve.”

“Please, Tony.” And the sound of his own pleading sends him through a body shudder so fierce Tony has to steady him so that he doesn’t collapse.

“Okay, okay,” Tony says and reaches for the gel. He coats his hand, making sure it isn’t diluted by the running water. “Turn around and bend over.”

Steve places his hands on the shower wall and does as instructed. He practically growls as Tony breaches him with one finger. Tony puts his palm flat on the small of Steve’s back to steady him. His own belly knots and twists and his balls clench until he has to stop and take in small panting breathes. It might be too much, it is too much to be here with Steve, to caress Steve and touch Steve so intimately.

“I don’t know, Steve, I don’t know if I can hold out,” he chokes on his words and he pauses.

“Please, more,” Steve asks and his voice is so wanton, so yearning that it’s dizzying and Tony descends into the pure pleasure of it, the thick passion and urgency of it.

He manages a second finger, separating in slow motions until he sways a little on his feet, until even the pelting of the water seems like a distant thing. He can only feel this, this touch, this motion, this action. He only wants this. 

“Steve, I need you, I want you now,” Tony says but pushes himself to continue to prepare Steve. He isn’t ready yet, he knows this and he will not put his needs over Steve’s not now, not ever. He gets another finger in and Steve thrusts back onto his hand and it is Tony who moans and whimpers as the sight.

“Now, Tony, now,” Steve says and the hands that keep him upright tremble.

“Kneel on the bench,” Tony says and positions Steve so that his ass is at the perfect angle, the right height. He generously pours the shower gel over his dick and he feels like its engulfed with flames. The weight and heft of it causes him to stop, he has to steady himself, he has to concentrate and he has to get this right – for both of them.

With the head of his dick at the pucker of Steve’s ass, he brushes a hand down the curve and says, “Push.”

He shoves in and he swoons – yes swoons-- until he thinks his eyes roll back in his head. He’s only partly aware of Steve groaning around him, shivering and shoving against him. Before he realizes it, Steve impales himself completely on Tony’s dick. He can’t breathe, there’s no air in the hot and humid shower. 

Pounding against the tiled wall with his fist, Steve begs, “Move, Tony, please, please.”

He yanks out a little and then pushes back in. The swing and rhythm of it is excruciating and sets jets of pain and pleasure through Tony’s spine until he’s grunting and sobbing with it. He wants it all, and this – this is what he has been working toward, this is what he has wanted. This intimacy, this vulnerability from Steve, this need and giving from himself. He would tear apart every piece and fragment of himself to surrender it to Steve. He suddenly realizes it, abruptly understands that all this time it really hasn’t been about control or chaos or anything like that- but it has been about this – laying himself bare as Steve does the same. Knowing this acceptance of who he is to the core, to the deepest well, Steve offers him and he, in kind, to Steve. Every foible and failure, ever hope and dream, is here.

He pulls back again and Steve moans for the loss, and then he rams back in and Steve arches against him. He reaches around to pump Steve’s cock, but Steve says, “No, no, not a hand on me like the first time, like the first time we made love.”

“Love,” Tony says and he’s falling in a lightheaded spell of longing. His body takes over, rocking and stroking into Steve and he’s winding and collapsing with it. Finding his way only to be pulled under by the feeling and motion and craving. 

His motions become more erratic and needy as he waits for Steve to come. He wants to fall over the edge, but he can’t, not until he knows, not until he feels it. He shoves and thrusts with abandon and the heat of Steve’s ass braces around his dick until he cannot but beg for air. “So damned hot, tight.”

“More, Tony, please,” Steve says.

And Tony doesn’t know what to do, he wants to make him come, he wants to launch Steve over the precipice but it seems impossible and his legs tire and he finally says, “I love you, so much.” 

Steve hitches a breath, stops in a full arch of his body.

“Babe, come for me, Babe.”

He relents and, in a shuddering haze, Tony feels it as Steve clenches down and comes. He cannot track his lover’s orgasm as he blanks out from the joy, the heat, the vice grip on his dick and he quakes as it overcomes him. It takes him several minutes to come back to himself, as Steve slides down the wall of the shower, and Tony notices for the first time the water’s run cold.

He eases out of Steve, and settles him on the bench. Turning off the faucets he says, “JARVIS, heat the water asap.”

Tony leans over and cradles Steve’s face in his hands. “Kiss me.” The kiss feels decadent as they fully open mouth and share tongues and lips. “I love you, do you hear me?”

“I love you,” Steve whispers back and he lays his head on Tony’s shoulder. “Never want to leave you again.”

Holding Steve’s head to his shoulder, Tony says, “You’ll never have to again.” He’ll make sure of it.

He cleans Steve up with a warm wash cloth. Leading Steve out of the walk in shower, he wraps him in towels and brings him to the bed. “Later for the bath, okay?”

“Sounds good to me,” Steve says as Tony pulls back the comforter. 

“Lay back,” Tony says and finishes drying Steve. He dries himself and races over to the bar. He opens the small refrigerator and retrieves a bottle of wine. Two glasses, a corkscrew and he’s set. He brings them over and settles in the bed next to Steve. “I’ll get us some food in a bit.”

“No,” Steve says.

“What?”

“I’ll get it,” Steve says. “Sometimes, sometimes part of what I want to do for you is to take care of you, too.” Tony shares a fond smile with Steve, he reddens in response. “Besides, you’re a terrible cook.”

“Hey,” Tony says but leans over and fully kisses Steve. “Wine?”

“Yes, please.”

Tony opens it and pours the Reisling. “Sorry, no champagne today.”

“Maybe another time,” Steve takes the glass and tastes it. “Nice.”

“Not bad, not my favorite.” Tony says and sets the glass aside. He takes Steve’s glass from him and puts it on the table. “Now, you’re going to sleep.”

“Sleep?”

“Yes, a little birdy, well a big green mean one, told me that you haven’t been sleeping well at all.” Tony positions the pillows and settles Steve exactly like he wants him. He slips on top of Steve and allows Steve to hold him like some kind of strange security blanket or human teddy bear. “Sleep.” He tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair.

“I think I will,” Steve says with a yawn. 

“I love you,” Tony whispers.

“Love you, too.”

When Tony is assured that Steve is asleep by the deep rhythm of his breathing, he murmurs, “Forgive me.”

“I did eight months ago,” Steve whispers back and kisses the crown of Tony’s head.

*oOo*  
A buzzing wakes Tony up and he grumbles before he realizes it is coming from the bathroom. Steve is still asleep, so Tony eases up off the bed and rummages through the pile of clothes on the floor. He finds his pants and pulls out the phone. 

“Stark?” He’s glad he’s not using the video feed.

“Stark, you said you have a lost protocol in place?”

“Yes, I always do.”

“Does that mean you can get out of Dodge?” Natasha asks.

“Yes, of course.”

“Implement it and take Steve with you.”

“What? Why?” Tony asks and starts picking up the clothes for no other reason that the nervous energy building in him.

“Fury doesn’t want either of you found. Do it, and do it now,” Natasha says. “Barton, Bruce, and I can hold them off.”

“Christ,” Tony says and adds, “Done.”

“Later.”

“Later,” Tony agrees and disconnects the call. “JARVIS, operation Lost protocol.”

“Immediately, sir.”

When he walks into the bedroom, Steve is already sitting up in bed with the sheets tossed away. “What’s going on?” His eyes are bleary and he still looks a little tired.

“We need to get out of here. Whatever you downloaded from the SHIELD facility is coming back to bite you in the butt.” Tony says and tears into the closet to pull out clothes. He slips on boxers and pulls on a pair of jeans. 

Steve stands up and stays Tony’s hands. “I know what I downloaded, Tony. You don’t have to run with me. You don’t have to let this disrupt your life.”

“I thought I made it perfectly clear, I am never letting you leave again. If you go, I go with you.”

Steve considers him and then nods. “Okay.”

As they dress and pull together a case of clothes, Tony asks, “Just what did you download from their servers?” Tony leads the way as they race down the stairs.

“Information on the Hydra group that attacked L.A..” 

Tony stops on the landing and asks, “And?”

“It’s an inside job, Tony. Someone at SHIELD is a part of Hydra and they want the arc reactor technology and the serum. I don’t know who and why, but I know it’s an inside job. Part of the information on that thumb drive will tell us who.”

“Okay then,” Tony says. “Then we are officially getting lost.”

“Lead the way.”

EPILOGUE  
The flight is long and tedious. Steve sleeps next to him in a bundle of long legs and wide shoulders. Tony keeps his hand on Steve, touching him, reassuring himself Steve is still there. It’ll be hours until they are at Tony’s unofficial safe haven, a place so outside of the norm SHIELD will never find them, never look for them. 

Tony laces his fingers through Steve’s as he awakes. Steve smiles and blinks. When they land it will be the next day. They’ll start a new plan and a new fight. But they will do it together and that is how the battle is fought, and that is how the war is won. 

“I love you,” he whispers again, just to make sure, to know that Steve understands.

“I know,” Steve says and caresses a hand down the length of Tony’s stubble. “I love you, always.”

He leans over and they share a kiss. He knows he’s won one battle, and now he has to win the war. 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished. This story is now done and I would love to hear what you think of the story, and the chapter. Did it work for you? This could be the last story - but I do have some interesting ideas for the Lost Protocol. It'll be up to you, dear readers, whether or not I will expand this verse further.
> 
> Thank you for following me on this journey. I thought this story was a difficult one to write but I have to say, I enjoyed it in the end. I hope you did as well.
> 
> Posting this late, and my edit was done a little too fast, so if you find anything that needs minor corrections please point them out!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for spending part of your day with me. If you are interested in updates on my work, please follow me on [tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com)
> 
> I am wondering if people are still interested in this verse.


End file.
